


Big Brother

by TheGuardian219



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst, Brother Feels, Childhood Memories, False Memories, Holmes Brothers, Holmes Brothers' Childhood, Kid!Lock, Multi, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft Feels, Mycroft-centric, Regret, Sherlock Being Mean, Sherlock Being a Good Brother, kid!Croft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-03-19 14:23:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 21,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3613275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGuardian219/pseuds/TheGuardian219
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was easy really. Get to Baskerville, make sure everything is 'OK', get out, proceed to his meetings. Mycroft was sent to <br/>Baskerville to have an 'inspection' after his brother's little adventure a few months back. Things suddenly got more complicated and confusing when Sherlock and John get's a text from Anthea saying Mycroft was in an accident. Now the two faces the consequences and the aftermath of the accident all the while trying to remain sane.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Assistance

**Author's Note:**

> First fic so there may be a lot of errors. English isn't my mother tongue so please forgive any grammatical mistakes.

**Mycroft**

It was easy really. Get to Baskerville, make sure everything is 'OK', get out, proceed to his meetings. But nothing is really easy in his line of work. Due to his brother's little adventure a few months ago, security as heightened and the staff took great lengths to ensure that he was indeed Mycroft Holmes. The elder Holmes resisted the urge to sigh in irritation. This wasn't his field of expertise. He already deduced that some guard were sleeping with each other and some of the scientists too. There was an overly sentimental old man in an office they passed by earlier. The other one had two daughters. Everything was so boring. He shuddered internally. He was beginning to sound like Sherlock.  
"I am sorry General but I am a little curious." he said half-way through. They paused in a rather narrow hallway filled with doors with warnings."There are rumors upstairs that one of your scientists tried to take his research 'outside' and endangered civilian lives." His tone was crisp and firm. A lesser man would have shivered from the coldness of his voice. "How did you know that sir?" one of the soldiers asked while his superior glared at him.  
"So it is true?" his voice carried a fake innocent-like tone that didn't fool anyone. Before the idiot could make himself look anymore foolish, the general answered with a measured and controlled tone, "Yes sir, I do regret to inform you that we did have another breach in our security" He said this while giving a pointed look to the elder Holmes. Mycroft just raised one of his brows. "However, we caught him straight away and we've dealt with the civilians." If he were a concerned citizen he might have asked what 'dealt' really meant but somethings are better left unsaid. "What about his works?" he inquired. They were obviously hiding something.  
"We've confiscated those as well. his research, well they will prove to be helpful should we complete it."  
"Should I be worried about your security?" 'Or lack thereof' he resisted saying. "No sir, we are doing are best to improve it more. Now, if you please here we have-"  
He listened and took notes since his assistant couldn't. She was stuck in the car since her clearance wasn't as high as his.  
The tour went on for what seemed like hours. By the end of it, Mycroft was well informed about what they want him to hear. There were secrets they weren't willing to share but he found out anyway, but that was expected. There were some that was so guarded he couldn't even scratch the surface. Also expected. They were passing through one of the labs when the alarm went off. The white halls were filled with dancing red lights and the soldiers took out their guns. "Not again." His ears caught the annoyance from a few feet away from him. "Seriously?" came a grunt from his left. He was having a long talk with his 'superiors' when he comes back. They were trying to lead him out of the building when a hoard of scientists and doctors came crashing in to them. they were obviously trying to get to their research and secure them but for some reason, Mycroft was separated from his guards. He felt dizzy all of a sudden and he grasped the wall for support. There was a flash of pain from the back of head before everything went black

* * *

 

**Sherlock**

_"There was an emergency. Your presence is requested ASAP ~A"_  
The text arrived after the four messages he ignored for five minutes. John was reading the paper while he watched Sherlock stare at his phone. "Okay then, what seems the matter now?" He asked without looking away from his paper. There were things you picked up while living with a detective. "You've been staring at your phone for awhile now."  
"It's nothing important." He said while trying to make the uneasy feeling in his stomach go away. After five minutes of silence, John's phone beeped. "Look's like Mycroft needs your help on a case." He said while standing up from his chair.  
"No."  
"No?"  
"His PA text you that he needed my assistance. Mycroft never texts unless he could talk, even when he texts he does it himself. His PA contacting me suggests that Mycroft is unavailable, she contacting you means that it is serious. She's desperate which means something happened to Mycroft, his probably injured somewhere."  
He paused for awhile, thinking.  
"How did you know she text me?"  
" She texted me five time in the last five minutes. When i didn't reply she probably texted you."  
"We should probably contact her. You know, make sure everything's alright?"  
"Boring!" Sherlock said while flopping down on the couch.  
John proceeded to text Anthea.

_"Is everything okay? -J"_

_"There will be a car waiting for you in two minutes ~A"_

There really was no point in arguing. When he opened his mouth to tell Sherlock, he was surprised to see him in his coat and scarf, ready to go.

"Once you texted her there was no point in trying to argue. Best just do what she says."

He thinks there was something more in those lines but he chose to ignore them. He'll just get a headache trying to think about what went on in the head of his flatmate.

* * *

After a few hours later they were in the entrance of Baskerville. John was shocked but he tried to hide it. As they exited the car, they were approached by Anthea, her trusty Blackberry in her hand. "It's best you come with me. The situation is quite delicate." Which could be translated into 'Come with me to a private place because if other people hear us, we would have to kill them' John thought cynically but followed her anyway.

Sherlock's brain worked double time trying to deduce what happened to his brother. So far, they've passed the labs and were currently going to the direction of the...infirmary? That means he was right, Mycroft was probably injured, or killed. Anthea wanted privacy probably because he was injured b y an experiment. It could also be because they didn't want others to leek information that an assassin managed to sneak their way into one of the most highly guarded facilities in Britain.

"What are we doing in the infirmary?" John asked with a quizzical expression. 'He could be so clueless sometimes' Shelock thought.

"My brother is probably injured in one of his 'inspections' probably by some experiments that doesn't really exist. I need to see my brother if you please"

He made his way to the door and almost touched it before Anthea blocked it. "I must warn you, it is shocking." Her voice had a certain tone that almost seemed anxious while her face betrayed nothing.

"I assure you I've seen worse." He suddenly had hundreds of pictures of Mycroft lying in a table pale and lifeless, all injured in different ways. He doesn't care. Convinces himself that he doesn't care about his rubbing older brother.

"I'll bet you ten quid you haven't" she said softly with a sad smile. She looked sharply in Sherlock's eyes and said "Don't say I didn't warn you." He ignored her and went in anyway. John followed but before he could continue he bumped into Sherlock's back. "Don't just stand there like a- Oh dear God."

There was nothing in the world that could have prepared him for the sight.

"Hello there." a voice said coming from the figure on the bed.

 

 

 


	2. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm new at writing Sherlock fics s.o there may be some OOCness. It's very difficult to write the Holmes brothers considering the circumstances right now. Please enjoy!

 

_"Hello there"_

There was a boy, ten based on his size and voice, with ginger hair and freckles sitting on the bed while there was a nurse beside him writng on a clipboard.

"Leave us." Sherlock ordered curtly. The nurse took one look at them and left. Anthea probably talked to them then.

"Hello there, My name is John Watson. What's your name?"

The boy raised a brow, in a frighteningly familiar way, before talking. "My name is Mycroft Holmes. I'm sorry but do you know where I am?"

John was taken aback. This was simply not possible. He feels very faint right now. "I, uh well, Mycroft? I just need to talk to Sher- my friend for a bit. Excuse us." The boy just nodded and John dragged Sherlock away.

"Is that really your brother?" John whispered violently on Sherlock's ear.

"Yes, he looks exactly like Mycroft when he was ten." there was something in his voice that alarmed John.

"Are you alright?"

"Just peachy, considering my brother was just turned into a ten year old in a lab in the middle of nowhere. He obviously didn't retain any memory of being an adult and probably thinks that-"

"Okay, just calm down now." The good doctor tried to calm him but Sherlock was obviously in a bad mood. "How can I calm down John? His bloody assistant didn't even explain anything before we came in and now she expects me to fix this mess? If he just stopped meddling for once we wouldn't even be in this mess."

"Not everything revolves around you, you know. Perhaps he had an assignment from his boss and-" John held up a hand when he saw Sherlock open his mouth, probably about to shout something in the line of 'He doesn't have any bosses he is the British government!' "No, listen to me. It's probably best if he doesn't know who you are yet or where-when he is."Sherlock took a glance and walked back to his brother. ":Too late." John tried stopping him but it was already too late.

"Who are you?" Sherlock asked coldly while John mentally slapped himself. "Mycroft Holmes, sir." The boy answered crisply.

"How old are you?"

"Ten years old."

"Do you know where you are?" Sherlock stared at the child. Hoping he would slip and prove that this is just some elaborate joke from Mycroft.

"No, but it looks like some research facility. A rather obscure and secret research facility I might add." the boy added.

These people were starting to alarm him. He noticed something wrong but was reluctant to accept it. There was a tense silence, the boy looked fidgety and John kept stealing glances from Sherlock and 'Mycroft' After a good minute the boy just couldn't handle it anymore, his mummy would kill him if he was late for dinner. "I'm sorry sir, but may I leave now? Mummy is going to be cross with me if I don't get home soon and I promised my brother that I would read to him later." Sherlock swallowed while trying to calm himself down.

"Do you know who I am?" The boy looked startled and took another glance at him. The mere glance gave him facts for his deduction, facts that were impossible to say the least..  "So you've figure it out."

"Figured out what?" this just isn't happening. He was probably having nightmare because of all the sugar he ate. "Come now, Mycroft. Don't be boring. If you've eliminated all the unlikely possibilities then the only one left no matter how impossible it sounds must be the truth." The boy's eyes widened and stared at Sherlock. "This isn't possible." he gasped out.

"Who am I?"

"I don't know." Mycroft said defiantly.

"Who am I?" Louder this time and more forceful.

He refuses it. If he says it then it would be true. "I've never met you! How can I know who you are?"

"For God's sake who am I?"

"Your Sherlock Holmes!" He blurted out while trying to keep the tears at bay. "Good." "Sherlock really, he's just a kid." John said while patting Mycroft's back. "No he isn't. He's Mycroft." the resentment in his voice shook the much younger Holmes to the core. "And where the hell are you going?" "To talk to his assistant."

John sighed while comforting the child. Oddly enough, the younger Mycroft didn't need comforting anymore. "You should go with him." there were no traces of tears on his freckled face and his voice juts shook ever so slightly but as the doctor looked in his eyes he just saw the same protectiveness in the elder Holmes' eyes. He was confused at how well Mycroft could control his emotions at such a young age. John just nodded and went after his friend. He would never know how Mycroft could command anyone no matter what state he's in or no matter how young he is.

* * *

"How did this happen?"

"One of the people upstairs ordered Mister Holmes to have an inspection of this place after hearing about an incident regarding one of their scientists 'taking their projects home' due to classified reasons, some of the civilians in the area were affected by the experiment.  He was developing a substance that could slow down aging and was apparently frustrated that the lab won't allow him to continue his project-"

"So he took it upon himself to continue it elsewhere. He didn't realize what the substance could do and therefore was careless."

"By the time security arrived, a dozen people was exposed. Some died a few minutes after contact and others who survived were 'dealt' with."

"Wait, dealt with?" John asked. Anthea's finger's stopped and she her glance to John told him everything he needed to know.

"It took two weeks before the actual report was passed and before they sent Mister Holmes to investigate. He thinks that someone may have continued the project without anyone knowing." She said while once again typing on her blackberry.

"Obviously." Sherlock muttered. "Obviously?" John said, once again lost.

"Mycroft survived, he turned to a bloody ten year old. Others died when they were exposed to it. My brother was inside the facility when he was exposed so there is a higher possibility that the substance has undergone a major development. But how did he get exposed in the first place? Wasn't this supposed to be one of the most secure places on earth?" he snapped at Anthea.

Not being alarmed by the outburst of the younger- Older? Holmes, she just replied nonchalantly.

"We were not allowed inside the facility itself. Mister Holmes was accompanied by soldiers inside while he conducted his 'inspection'. Halfway through, we received intel that an assassin managed to sneak in the facility and alerted security at once. There was panic and the soldier lost mister Holmes. We presumed that the assassin knocked him out and dragged him to a private place, which happened to be Mr. Rogers', the scientist's, lab in order to assassinate Mister Holmes."

"If that were the case then why didn't he kill Mycroft when he had the chance?" John asked.

"We don't know for certain."

"I need more data in order to-"

"No sir, we don't need you to investigate." Sherlock and John were bot confused at this statement." We already have people doing it."

"Then why the hell did you-No! Absolutely not.I will not be babysitting my brother! "

"Wouldn't it be safer if you watch him?" he wasn't too keen on the idea of watching two Holmes' fight in one roof. 

"The people working on the case are already sworn to secrecy. The lesser the number of people that knows will be better.  It would ensure that there will be no leak of information that may endanger the safety of Mycroft Holmes"

"Send him to mummy then, they would all be absolutely ecstatic if they get to spend time with their 'little Mikey' again" Sherlock is really starting to sound like a child but he could hardly bring himself to care.  The memories would just continue to clog up his brain and it confuses him.  He would rather have a boring month than take care of his much younger older brother. 

"We can't do it.  It may endanger the lives of your parents and it may result in more people knowing" 

"in other words you're worried our parents would let word slip up that their oldest son was turned to a ten year old because of-"

"Sherlock, please. I'm sorry, he's just very stressed at the moment." John tried to calm his friend while apologizing to Anthea.

"Why did the facility stop him from continuing his research?" Sherlock asked frantically.

"That's need to know." A few more and the consultant detective was about to snap.

"I know you want him to turn back to normal and you want it as soon as possible but the only thing you could do now is to take care and protect Mister Holmes."

Before he could scream his protests to the calm and collected woman who didn't bother to look up from her phone while saying this,John pulled him aside with a quiet 'Excuse us for a bit' and dragged Sherlock in a corner. After much convincing-God knows how he managed it- Sherlock reluctantly agreed. Anthea called to make sure that everything would be ready in 221 B before they arrived.

As they entered the infirmary again, they found Mycroft sitting in the bed, eyes closed and breathing deeply.

"Are you really my brother?" He asked in a calm voice that held no traces of the shaking quality it had mere minutes ago.

"Yes."

"How did I get here?" Mycroft asked while opening his eyes.

Sherlock ignored him. He just started typing in his phone. "There was an accident. You were conducting an inspection when it happened."

"Is this like one of those shows Jerry always talks about?"

"No. You were turned into a ten year old, all your adult memories were wiped and only your memories from your childhood remained." Sherlock said before pocketing his phone.

"We'll be leaving in ten minutes." he said curtly. "Where are we going? I suppose I can't see mummy and daddy then."

"Wait a minute, how did you figure out that Sherlock- this Sherlock is your brother?" John asked. The much younger Holmes once again raised one of his brows at him, that was starting to get rather annoying. "Oh dear, he we go." Sherlock uncharacteristically groaned.

"First, you were quite shocked to see me when you first opened the door, which mean you knew me before the incident. Your little slip of the tongue was a dead give away. Not many male names begin with a Sher. His hair also looks just like our grandfathers which increases the probability that he is a relative. His facial features also resemble our father which suggests a close relative, most likely a nephew or a son. I also saw the birthmark by his neck and the faint scar in his left hand he got a few moths ago while playing with our mothers scissors."

Sherlock just grumbled "Show off."

"What made you believe that we are really who we are? that we're not just tricking you?" It seems odd that the very protective Mycroft Holmes just believed that they were telling the truth and didn't put up much of a fight.

"John we don't have all day. Mycroft saw the year in my watch. He probably also saw Anthea's phone when we came in." Mycroft just nodded.

"This just doesn't make sense-"

"None of this make sense, now let's go before the woman drags us out."

Mycroft stood up and walked quietly behind Sherlock and John. When they passed they turned to a corner, Sherlock matched his brother's pace and instinctively put a hand on his shoulder while John walked in front. John saw it happen. They were passing a lab with a huge window when he caught a glimpse of the Holmes brothers. He briefly wondered what happened that made them act so hostile towards the other.

* * *

_"But I don't want to go to Remy's birthday party."_

_"Hush now Sherlock, we'd only be a few minutes." Mycroft said to the whining child._

_"But i was about to dissect a frog."_

_"I know, if you behave we could dissect two frogs later." That did the trick. His younger brother shut his mouth and continued walking while looking around. The party was a just a few houses away from theirs but neither of the boys really wanted to go. Mummy just insisted that they need to talk to other children. After the incident a few years back in the playground, neither wanted to talk to any 'goldfish' unless necessary._

_A few minutes later they arrived. They were welcomed by Remy's mother who handed them each a party hat- that they absolutely refused to wear. They put their presents on a table with the others. Mycroft talked to some of the children his age when they approached but remained quiet otherwise. They sat in a corner, avoiding anyone that may want to talk to them about trivial things._

_"Want to play deduction?" Mycroft asked when he noticed Sherlock fidgeting on his seat._

_"Of course!"_

_"There, what may we deduce about that girl with the scarlet dress?"_

_They were approached later by Remy's mother once again, informing them that they were about to open the presents then start the games. Sherlock would really just sneak away. Since the 'incident'  he had been hesitant with approaching his peers. Mycroft held his shoulder, assuring him that he would not let anyone hurt him and that he would be by his side the whole time._

* * *

 

"Everything is ready. There are clothes already delivered to your flat and extra cash should you need anything more." Anthea greeted them outside, the usual sedan replaced by a limo.  
"Good afternoon sir."

"Good afternoon , Anthea I presume."

"Yes sir." The boy looked uncomfortable but he hid it well.

"You don't have to call me that. I don't even know what I supposedly do."

She just smiled as They all entered the car. The car drove smoothly and Mycroft drank in the view.

"Mr. Holmes," Mycroft wasn't used at being called that but something made him instinctively look at his PA.

"You will be living in your brother's flat indefinitely until we find a way to reverse whatever happened to you. You are not allowed in your estate because it is constantly being monitored. Your phone has been taken away for security purposes as well as your computer." She paused, letting everything sink in.  
 "You won't be allowed to do cases while he's under your care." She said to Sherlock.

"That was not part of our agreement."

"You cannot risk his safety-"

"Come on,calm down-"

Mycroft tuned them all down. This was becoming quite a day. His assistant fighting with his brother and his flatmate. It wasn't really that hard to deduce. It wasn't also the whole truth. When he looked at Sherlock, he just had the feeling deep down that he can't explain. A feeling of familiarity and a faint regret. He couldn't explain the latter but everything just fell into pieces when it was confirmed.

He was curious about the military doctor and his supposed assistant, especially his brother. Just a few weeks ago he had been reading to his brother. What happened to him? To them? When he as gathering data, he caught several things that he was reluctant to accept but that just wasn't it. He was acting distant, like he was afraid of what would happen if he got too close.

He shook his head and studied the interior of the car. Expensive, at least five years old. He must be very important. A politician perhaps? No, if they confiscated his things that means that they hold sensitive information. A spy then, but why would- Oh. He holds a position in the government, enough to warrant an attempted assassination-yes, he knows about that- a fancy car, a loyal and trustworthy secretary and a high enough clearance that could result in the confiscation of his belongings. Who knew reading so many books could help him? Mother did like reading all the conspiracy books.

 The three people with him are still arguing. There was that faint pain from the back of his eyes again. He kept trying to ignore it-hence the deductions- but he obviously failed miserably. The head-ache wasn't serious. HE apparently has them as an adult. How did he know? There were pain killers with a mineral water bottle sitting by the back of the car. Such a useful assistant he had.

The pain was becoming unbearable and he held his head in his hand for a bit as he let out a small moan.

"Mycroft? Are you okay?" It was Sherlock's voice

"Yes, just a bit of a headache." he mumbled as the painkillers were silently handed to him by his assistant with the mineral water.He took them gratefully.

"Do you feel any other pain?" He shook his head. "I'm fine."

They obviously didn't believe him but they kept quiet and that somehow lessened the pain even more. He smiled. Where ever he is,  _when_ ever he is, he's sure he was safe with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, it was really hard writing this. I don't want to reveal everything when it comes to deductions and the character's feelings. I absolutely have no idea what Sherlock's feeling right now, plus I want to give Mycroft the innocent and caring child yet have the stoic and strict British Government attitude. It's difficult but fun to write. Hope you enjoyed it. Stay tuned!


	3. Baker Street

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes. My computer died and I had to type it in my phone. I would really like to hear what you thought about the chapter! Anyway, please enjoy!

John has been studying the Holmes brothers for awhile now. Mycroft was currently admiring the beautiful surroundings as they passed by London. Sherlock was gazing out, no doubt thinking again. He caught him several times glancing at his now younger brother. Not to sound repetitive but it was, odd. Mycroft usually was the one who stidied his brother constantly but now it seems as though their roles were reversed. After Mycroft's headache, they ceased all arguing and came to an agreement shortly. Sherlock was allowed cases but nothing too extreme. Which meant he could solve it while in his flat via his phone or laptop. It annoyed him at first but one glance of Mycroft was enough to shut him up. That was another curious thing though, Mycroft was silent since they've picked him up from Baskerville, not counting when they asked him questions. Of course, as he was thinking it, as if to annoy him, Sherlock and Mycroft both said "I'm bored" at the same time. He was used with Sherlock but it was a surprise to hear Mycroft say it. Then again, he was ten years old. " Let's play deduction." Sherlock said while Mycroft nidded enthusiastically. "What do you think about this car?" 

That did it. The tense silence was over and he marveled at how easy the two geniuses slipped from their stoic facade and became animated. They switched topics easily and the long journey became all suddenly short. They've arrived.

" I will be in touch. The outside of your flat will be monitored to ensure your safety. The bugs inside has been temporarily removed. If you need anything else just text me." she gave one last glanxe at Sherlock and John and a small smile at Mycroft and she was gone.

"Here it is then. Home sweet home" Sherlock grumbled as they opened the door to their flat.

"Where will I sleep?" Mycroft asked.

That hasn't been discussed yet. "You'll take John's room." The consultant detective said.

"wait, hold on. He's your brother." 

"So?"

"So he'll use your bedroom. If you're so worried abiut sleeping on a decent bed, we could take turns." 

During their exchange, Mycroft remained silent. "I could just sleep in the couch."

"Oh no, you wouldn't want to. Trust me." Jihn said while glaring at Sherlock.

"Fine, you could sleep in my room just don't touch anything."

* * *

_Small feet found themselves wandering the Holmes residence in the middle of the night._

_"Sherlock? What do you want?"_

_His brother was studying in his desk with an annoyed expression on his face._

_"I can't sleep."_

_It was like saying 'i want to sleep here so let me sleep here' in an innocent way._

_"Come here." he sighed_

_He softly closed the door. "Why can't you sleep?"_

_The young boy didn't reply. He just looked at his feet and shrugged._

_"Sherlock, I'm busy." his elder brother said in exasperation._

_"But- I'll be quiet. I promise."_

_"Fine. But you can't touch anything. And you need to be absolutely quiet."_

_"Ok!" the smile the curly haired boy gave him melted his heart right away._

* * *

Mycroft shook his head and John smiled at him sympathetically. He was confused as to why the doctor smiled at him but he tried to smile back. There was that pain in his head again he tried to make an excuse as to why he winced but then his stomach rumbled loudly. He blushed while Sherlock chuckled.

"Looks like someone's hungry."

"Please stop doing that."

John blinked at Mycroft.

"Stop what."

"Treating me like a child. I'm not one despite my appearance." the much younger Holmes grumbled while trying to be the adult he was. Needless to say he failed miserably.

Sherlock scoffed at the remark. "Your ten years old. Both in body and mind. Your deduction abilities, although still high was reduced b-" "Sherlock!" John interrupted him.

Mycroft looked shock for a brief second but then it turned to hurt and for a moment John thought he would actually cry or throw a tantrum. But neither happened. Instead he slipped into a cool facade of innocent sheepishness.

" I suppose my brother is right. I would still appreciate if you don't treat me like some child. Even then  I was more advance than my peers in terms of maturity." 

He then flashed a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. John turned to Sherlock but the detective is already turned away while tuning his violin. He sighed. What is it with these Holmes.

"okay, I'll try But you need to remember that I am a doctor. I'm used to talking to kids like they don't knkw what's best for them. Now, I think I have a slice of cake somewhere here." he led Mycroft to the fridge and helped him settle on a table.

Sherlock glanced at his friend and his brother. There was a twinge of jealousy but he couldn't exactly pin point wether he was jelous of John or Mycroft. Emotion was not his department. He doesn't even know why John insists in him caring for his brother. 'Caring is not an advantage' said the same brother that demanded hin to care about the nation. He made it rather clear that he doesn't actually care about his brother Despite the worrying constantly line he always said. 

Back in the kitchen Mycroft and John were discussing business,well gossiping about Sherlock mire like it but, semantics and all that.

"Is he always like that?"

"Not really. Back then, you always came here to try and persuade him to take one of your cases. He tries to refuse but he takes it anyway." 

"What sort of cases?"

"Well, murders. Some missing documents, you get the idea."

" Is he always so cold towards me?"

For a minute John forgot he was talking to a Mycroft whose last memory of his brother was probably someone who he thought the world is and who thought that his brother felt the same.

He chuckled for a moment before composing himself.

"Cold? Sherlock and you? Whenever you come here yiu always have a rather heated argument trying to out deduce the other. He usually tries to make you leave straight away but-" at this point he did remember. "Of course that's just what I see. Who knows what goes on in your heads." it was a poor attemot to save the mood but Mycroft let it pass.

"It's just weird."

John listened silently. Mycroft wasn't so open while an adult.

"The last memory I have of him was him trying to reach a book in the library that almost crushed but now,"

He glanced as Sherlock softly played his violin.

"He's all grown up." there was a mixture of pride and sadness that John wouldn't even dream of trying to comprehend.

He yawned. 

"It's been a long day for you. Maybe you shoukd rest for a bit?" Mycroft merely nodded as John led him to Sherlock's bedroom.

* * *

 

"What is the matter with you?"

John snapped at Sherlock. The latter didn't even miss a beat from his playing and tried to ignore John.

"Oh you're ignoring me again? Brilliant. Your brother just turned into a ten year old and instead of comforting him, being his brother, you just ignore or tease him. For once give him a break Sherlock!" 

At this Sherlock halted his playing.

"Caring won't do anything to help him John. It won't produce an antidote. He also quite made it quite clear that caring is not an advantage back then. If anything he might be disappointed in me when he turns back if I so much as tuck him to bed." 

Before he couldn't stop himself from punching his flatmate he grabbed his coat and went for the door. "Where are you going?"

"I need some air." was yelled downstairs. 

Neither heard a door softly being shut. 

 

 


	4. Ice breaker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought that there were little to no brotherly feels from the earlier chapters so I give you this. Hope you all enjoy.

"Why was Mycroft even there? I thought the staff said that inspections 'just doesn't happen'?"

It was a wonderful morning and it would be a sin not to go out. Unforunately for the residence of 221 b baker street, they will have to resort being sinners until some issues were resolved.

" As I said before, he was ordered by his superiors." Anthea answered calmly as she took a sip of her tea. John just sighed at the answer as Sherlock kept plucking at his violin. Mycroft was still in bed And was expected to be up in a few minutes.

"Mycroft doesn't do legwork." John argued.

"He doesn't like doing it but it doesn't mean he is stuck in a desk sitting all day." she retorted. 

"No he's too busy spying on me isn't he. And if he has free time, he likes to start wars and end them simultaneously."

Anthea resisted the urge to roll her eyes but she kept her stoic facade and remembered her training. 

Mycroft suddenly walked in yawning as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Good morning."

"How are you sir?"

"What-oh, Anthea, good to see you. I'm fine, thank you for asking."

"It's Adrianna today,sir."

Mycroft was confused but nodded anyway.

Apparently being turned into a ten year old was tiring. He has bags under his eyes and he looked like a wind could blow him away. 

The army doctor headed to the kitchen and grabbed him some toast with butter. He also gave him a glass of milk as he sat down in the couch. He figured he would like to know what was happening.

"How is the investigation going?" he asked as he munched on his toast.

"Slow. Our people are doing their best but-"

"It's not enough. Just send me on the case, I can solve it faster than your people." The only consulting detective arrofantly proclaimed.

"It would be dangerous." 

'Ever the big brother, aren't you?' John thkught absent-mindedly.

"Like you would care."

"Sherlock." 

"Yes, it would be too dangerous and it could potentially compromise the whole operation. We are not just finding out how and who did it but how to get your brother back to normal." 

Normal wasn't a word associated with any Holmes but it would do. 

"I could compromise the operation?" Sherlock asked in a slightly insulted tone.

"She means that you have total disregard for the confidentiality of the whole op and would basically just shout out everything thats been labeled classified just so you could crack it." at this the three chuckled while Sherlock absolutely did not pout.

"Did you find the assassin yet?" the ten year old inquired politely.

Needless to say John was once again surprised and Anthea was almost shocked but remembered her employer's omniscience and just gave a smooth reply.

" We have yet to find him nor identify him. We are certain though that he was from the outside."

No one wanted to ask how they knew. She'd probably just lie So why bother?

She checked her watch and winced. "I have to go. I'll drop by soon to check on you." then she was gone after glancing at John and Sherlock and nodding to Mycroft.

* * *

_"But Mycroft, I don't want to go to school."_

_With an annoyed huff his brother kept pulling at his hand._

_"Don't be absurd Sherlock, you need to go there to learn."_

_"But everythin is boring. I already know what they teach."_

_"Yet you don't know how to talk to other people, how stupid can you be?"_

* * *

 

Sherlock frowned he really needed to sort out his mind palace. Memories kept resurfacing everytime he sees his brother. His hate for him diminishes and increases simultaneously and it is exhausting. Not that he'd ever admit it.

Mycroft didn't know what to do. He wanted so badly to talk to Sherlock but apparently his older counterpart wasn't particularly fond of the idae of sentiments. His much older younger brother also resents him for reasons he doesn't know. John seemed nice but he treats him like a child. And he was just not Sherlock.

John sighed. For all the intelligence the Holmes boys possessed they have no idea how to interact with people, namely eachother. He guessed that Sherlock must be bored to tears now and was itching to have a case. He also knew deep down that he was concerned with Mycroft. Despite the resentment earlier, he knew enough to know that he does care for his brother.

It was awkward. The silence could be cut by a knife. Suddenly, his phone rang. 

"Right. I need to go. I forgot I promised that I'll meet Sarah today. I'll see you later."

He was out before either could protest. He didn't want to ve in there when the questions would be asked. They could handle it themselves.

" wait John-" "Don't g-"

They were cut off by the slam of the door.

"What happened last night?"

Sherlock asked expectantly. Mycroft sat on John's chair and sighed. "Nightmares." it was pointless to lie and feign ignorance with this Sherlock. "How'd you know?" he asked curiously.

"You have bags under your eyes, which means that you didn't sleep well or didn't have enough sleep last night. Obviously the former. There are faint bite marks on your lips which suggests nightmares. Also, I heard you tossing last night." 

"When did you sleep?" he was more concerned with Sherlock's health than his own. Nothing new there.

"I don't require much sleep. I just need 4-6 hours to function properly." 

He stood up and grabbed something somewhere near his chair. 

"Shall we play?" he asked his brother.

His brother's ginger eyebrow was raised but he nodded anyway.

He moved a piece first.

"Why don't we live together?"

His brother moved agilely while avoiding eyecontact as he asked.

"It isn't very convenient. We have a frankly childish feud going on."

Sherlock answered with a grin As he made his move.

It unnerved Mycroft but he continued anyway and began his next move.

" What's this feud about?" he tried to give it an emotionless tone but he was very curious.

"Too many things." it was a vague answer that didn't answer anything.

They proceeded with their game with some occasional teasing. Until Mycroft ssked the question.

"Do you have a girlfriend yet?"

The only reply he got was a long annoying beep as the pice Sherlock was moving- a heart- was dropped clumsily. Mycroft began laughing his face off.

It was how John found them later at lunch as ge carried some chinese take-out with him-he knew they would forget about lunch- sat cross-legged at the floor with cluedo down tgere with them and the rules in Sherlock's hand as Mycroft looked over his shoulder. Both insisted that the victim killed himself and John laughed at the absurity and utter _cuteness_ of the situation. The ice was broken and it seems that the bith Holmes are speaking to each other civilly. For once, he could ignore that Mycroft was turned into a ten year old and that Sherlock is so bored he could kill for a case. All was well in 221 b.


	5. The Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update guys! I just didn't know what to do next after the last chapter. I'm not really happy with this one but I promise the next one would be better! Hope you enjoy!

Apparently, the rare moment of brotherly affection didn't last long and John was once again sat upon his chair, drinking tea while Sherlock tries to ignore his brother while solving some crimes that were emailed to him via hid laptop. Mycroft was reading a book from John's collection. Oddly enough, he didn't remember reading it. The brothers were engrossed at their work that John felt brave enough to study them. They were quite similar. Mycroft tended to act almost like Sherlock when he was younger, dedpite acting nothing like him while he was an adult. Sherlock looked as if he didn't even want to acknowledge his brother's presence next to him but there's almost something in their behavior that John thinks that there is conflict within that genius mind. 

Fortunately, before he could lose himself in his 'mind-closet' as Sherlock kindly put it(That was a rather funny yet embarassing story that he will never mention to anyone) further Anthea came in with her blackberry.

Before a greeting could be made, she looked up and gazed at Sherlock.

"We need to talk."

And talk they did. John grabbed the tea and biscuits that Mrs. Hudson dropped by earlier and offered her some as they gathered in a semi circle. 

"The assassin that was hired to Mr. Holmes was found yesterday. He was indeed one of the scientists of Baskerville." 

"Any relation to our scientist?" Sherlock asked stoically.

"None. They were seen speaking to eachother every few days but just about as often as you speak with an officemate working in another department."

"Is he a professional?"

"Hardly" Mycroft scoffed.

John blinked at Mycroft.

"If he was a trained killer then he would have killed me right away. He could have easily killed me in that room but he just left me-" Sherlock was not going to let his brother gwt all the attention.

"Which suggests that he either was compromised or he planned to leave you in the room. Most likely the latter. He knew about the experiment-"

"But I thought everything was hush-hush there. I mean, everyone's so secretive they probably won't have a clue what the other's are doing." 

"Precisely." Both the Holmes said and John could feel his eye twitch.

"So, you're saying they know each other?" 

"Yes." Mycroft smiled at him in that creepy way he did as an adult."They know eachother quite well if they are willing to exchange sensitive data with eachother."

"it could be just coincidence."

"Yes but the universe is rarely so lazy." The much younger Holmes said.

"The killer planned it. If he was indeed compromised and decided to drag Mycroft in a room he would have nine possible ways to kill him. Possibly more if-"

"I'm having both their backgrounds checked right now. I'm also trying to find others that may be involved." Anthe cut him off. Needless to say Sherlock looked offended.

"You should have did it earlier."

"Sherlock"

There was a moment silence before Anthea looked up from her phone.

"It would take a few hours to get it. They are both hiding something. Their records are clean. Too clean." She frowned at the text she received.

"Your security detail has been heightened. We have reason to believe that whoever was involved wants to find you."

"Find me?" 

"Yes, the experiment is not complete and they would likely want to use you as a... Test subject." Anthea grimaced.

Sherlock clenched his fist while John scowled.

"I was wondering why your people aren't doing the same." Mycroft asked. Any other ten year old, his tone might have implied naïvety.

Anthea looked puzzled but then smiled.

"None of us would allow that sir."

"I would volunteer. If that's what it will take to reverse it." He said stubbornly.

Anthea smiled. Who knew her employer could look so adorable while glaring at her?

She smiled at him. "You don't need to. We have everything we need in the lab Sir."

John suddenly realized something.

"Wouldn't staying here be obvious then?"

"That's actually why I wanted to talk to you."

She paused. 

"While discussing it with the security team, we agreed that staying too much inside will cause suspicion. That's why we are now oermitting you to solve cases. Minor ones though, the not dangerous kind."

There were nothing of that sort really. John believed those cases to be a myth.

"Can't we just leave him here?" John asked since Sherlock seemed to bored to acknowledge their presence.

"Not an option. Even with security teams on stand by it will be safer if you are all together. For all your sakes"

"It's still risky. We're gambling that if we acted normal, no one would be suspicios but our scientists will more likely to notice us And it will make it easier for them to track us. Which means-oh. Neat." Mycroft smirked.

"Are you suggesting to make my brother act as bait?!" Sherlock glared at her. Hatred or not Mycroft was his brother.

"What happened to safe and security just awhile back?" John asked. Mycroft winced at the slight raise in his voice.

"I don't like it either but-"

There they go again fighting like children. The irony was not lost to Mycroft. This is troublesome. It is the best way to trap the would be kidnappers and give them more time. His mind worked double-time as he thought of all the possible scenarios, the pros and cons.

"I agree with her."

They looked at him with surprise.

"It's the best plan we have." 

"But we could-"

"It is my decision. After all I was the one who got turned into a ten year old."

Sherlock looked pissed. There were no onther word to describe it.

"But technically, you are not a legal adult." John reasoned.

"However, in the records, I am currently older than you and have never been part of any experimentations nor jas ever been turned into a ten year old."

Damn these Holmes men. 

Everything looked settled to Anthea.

"You can't let Mr. Holmes' real identity leak so we made him a new identity." she passed Sherlock some folders who ignored them. She passed it into Mycrofts hands.

He opened it and grimaced at the name.

"Michael Percival Holmes?"

She shot him an apologetic look.

"There are bound to be certain slips of the tongue especially under stress. The solution is to make the first syllable of your name into something similar. Even if it slipped, it could easily be ignored. You thought me that one sir."

John remembered the day they went into the infirmary.

"You can call him Myc and none would be the wiser."

Sherlock smirked at the joke as Mycroft glared at him. Anthea briefed them on whag they will do tomorrow. It seemed easy enough. It was a walk in the park.


	6. A walk in the park

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness!! There will be slight -ok maybe a lot of- OOCness in this chapter. Depending on how you see the Holmes boys. It was difficult to write but it was fun! Hope you enjoy!

Mycroft thought that the plan was obvious, predictable and utterly  _normal_. That's why they could pull it off. It seemed so strange yet familiar. First, they would go out to the bookstore and buy him a book. He had no objections in this. He was secretly prompting John to buy him a book because his books were so boring. Then they would go out for lunch then- he paused. Anthea or whatever her name is today couldn't actually thought he'd go with this. A walk in the park? Well he did say he'd do anything necessary, but just thinking about the noise- the people. He sighed. Atleast he'd have his book. 

He was getting ready while Sherlock sulked at the plan. It was too obvious. They'll be discovered soon, probably ten minutes aftet they set foot out. 

John was gatting ready as well. He was bringing his gun- just in case- and Mycroft's umbrella. He decided against packing some snack since nobody would eat it anyway. 

They were all worried about the 'walk in the park'. John honestly didn't know what to expect. They decided to leave at 10 am sharp.

* * *

 

The trip to the bookstore seemed to make Mycroft feel like a child in the candy store. He explored it like how Sherlock explored their backyard, looking for treasure.

He paused. Where did that come from?

He shook his head and continued to browse through the books. 

Sherlock decided to explore as well, getting lost in the wide assortment of literature while John got stuck in the "Classics" section. It seemed forever until they met uo again. Sherlock raised an eyebrow at Mycroft's book. Mycroft raised his. They purchased the book while John stiffled his laughter. 

They decided to go to Angelo's for lunch. "Ah, my favorite customer!" he made his way towards them. "ah who's this? I see you have a new addition to-" 

"He's my cousin, Michael. Michael, say hi to Angelo." Sherlock smiled as he gestured to his brother.

"Hello sir." Mycroft said in a shy yet polite voice.

"He's a shy one isn't he? Here let me show you to your table."

As they finished ordering and as Angelo turned his back, John saw Mycroft's shy demeanor vanish.

"He thinks you two are..."

He didn't dare finish the sentence.

"Unfortunately" John sighed. "And you didn't correct him?" 

"He wouldn't listen and-" John got defensive.

"It's alright." Mycroft smiled at him mischievously. That made John's stomach churn.

"We are not- I am not gay! Fuck, why am I even trying?" he grumbled as Mycroft's smile widened.

He enjoyed making people feel uncomfortable.

Soon enough he resumed his polite, shy cousin act and ate his food but still retained some ten-year old mischief.

It was an odd combination and it would probably seem to be an impossible feat but he pulled it off.

After lunch they made their way to the park. By then it was already 2'o clock and as John and Sherlock settled beneath the dhade of a tree, Mycroft approached them.

"Do you remember the story?"

"My mother and father, William and Elizabeth Holmes, died in a car accident a few days ago. None of my other relatives can look after me so until further notice, I will be staying at my cousin, Mycroft. But unfortunately, because of his schedule, I was left to Sherlock, my other cousin."

"Until when are you staying with your cousin?" Sherlock asked.

"Until my other relatives could sort out what to do to me." He shrugged.

"Tell me the story backwards."

Mycroft sighed but did as he was told. In John's eyes, he was playing the shy and quiet Holmes perfectly. He was polite and naïve. At the moment, he was doing a good job portraying the orphaned ten year old. 

"Okay. Now be a good boy and play over there." Sherlock said teasingly while Mycrodt scowled at him. It disappeared as he made his way to the playground.

"Be careful Michael!" Sherlock yelled as 'Michael' ran. "I will!" he replied with a toothy grin.

It was a wonder why these two didn't make the stage. 

They decided to lean against a tree. John reading a paper he bought on their way as Sherlock leafed through Mycroft's new book.

"Was he always like that?"

"Like what?" 

"Happy one moment, angry the next. It's like-"

"He's Mycroft, John"

The ex-army doctor couldn't take it anymore.

"That really doesn't answer the question. Do you know how many times you gave me that answer? Eight times now." John whisoered as they maintained their 'calmly reading' act.

"I didn't know you were counting."

"That's not the point, Sherlock."

"It's just that." Sherlock paused. " I can't remember much of Mycroft when he was younger. I must have deleted them." he muttered.

"You deleted memories of your brother?" 

"You have no idea how insufferable he could be." 

"Of course not. I'm not- Sherlock,"

Sherlock was already making his way towards the playground. 

* * *

 

Mycroft- Michael sat on a swing and he tried to get as high as he could. There was an ever present smile plastered on his face. Big enough to let eveyone know he was enjoying himself but small enough to give an air of sadness. He was used to acting. He once acted his way to avoid some awkward family dinners. He once got away from uncle Emmanuel's life stories with just a toothpick and his acting skills.

With children though, it seemed odd. They always had a knack to bore him yet fascinate him. They could be so perceptive sometimes yet so ignorant the next. 

"Hey!" a blonde boy yelled and he stopped the swing to look at him. He had two other kids with him, one another blonde while the other was brunette. He deduced everything in a matter of seconds.

"You're using my swing" the boy complained.

" I din't see your name on it." right, the spunk of a ten year old. Not to mention a ten year old Holmes.

" You getting smart with me?" Michael resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"I was merely stating the obvious."

"Are you saying I'm stupid? You're new around here aren't you?"

"Yes, my parents recently died and I'm staying at a relatives. Should I know you?" He asked with feigned innocence.

"The names Chad Jones. These are my pals, Henry and George."

"Michael Holmes. Do you want anything else?"

"Yes. I want you to get outta my swing!"

Mycroft stood up. 

"I still have no proof that you own the item in question. Please go away."

He turned to get back on the swing when Chad grabbed him on the arm and turned him around.

"I ain't done with you yet! Get lost or get beaten, your choice."

"Should i feel treathened?" he sneered.

"Why you-" before the fist came, Sherlock was there, holding the childs wrist in a death grip.

"What the- let go of me!" 

"Is there a problem here?" a man with an obvious beer belly asked. Obviously the boy's father.

"Yes, your son was harassing my cousin." Sherlock glared at the boy. 

"Well, what I saw was your cousin starting a fight."

"Don't be Silly. Chad over here thinks that he owns the swing. He demanded me to get out. He actually treathened to beat me if I didn't leave." Mycroft said. He hid a wince as he realized that he broke character. Sherlock gave him a reprimanding glare As he let the boy go.

"You should control your brat." the man spat out.

"You should control yours. He needs a better role model. Someone other than a drunkard of a father. I'd say that he tries to be like you to impress you but you always ignore him, favoring instead his elder brother."

The man looked absolutely livid.

"Let's go son."

And that was the end of that.

"One bloody day. All I asked was one bloody day for you to not get in trouble." John sighed as they rode a cab to their flat.

"He was the one that got in trouble."

"They were being arrogant."

"That wasn't very nice." John sighed as he rubbed his head.

"He wasn't very nice." Mycroft sulked.

"Mummy told me that he made worse. He once made a girl in his class cry because he deduced her parent's imminent divorce."

"You know about that?" Mycroft seemed aghast. 

"And many more." Sherlock smirked.

In spite of himself, John chuckled aloud.

* * *

 

After dinner, Mycroft stood at the window and gazed at the stars. He had a phase while he was younger when he wanted to know everything about the stars, the planets, all of the constellations. At one point, he thought Sherlock All of the constellations he knew and all he knew about astronomy.

* * *

_"Look over there Sherlock, that's Orion's belt!"_

_He pointed at the book while his brother looked in awe._

_"Oh I know this one Myc! It's the big dipper." he smiled as his brother pointed at it enthusiastically._

_There was silence._

_"Myc, if you go in a black hole, where will you go?""Myc, how does the moon affect the tides." "If the moon disappeared, would werewolves die?"_

_The questions his brother had were answered and during this point, Mycroft will take all their time together for granted. He didn't know then afterall. Of he knew the change that they will experience, perhaps he'd be more attentive to his brother._

* * *

 

Mycroft sighed while Sherlock continued to type on his computer. It seemes as though he didn't exist anymore.

"I could fight my own battles, you know."

He said while Sherlock ignored him.

"There was absolutely no need for you to interfere back then."

Still, his brother ignored him. 

He opened his book and read. It was far more interesting to lose himself in a tale about adventure action than talk to his boring brother.

Sherlock glanced at his brother and fought a smile. Was that how Mycroft felt when they were children. The hell he must have put his brother through. 

After dinner, Mycroft fell asleep on the couch. Sherlock carried his to his room and tucked him in as he put the book down on the desk he jad on the corner.

John saw him get out and hid the smile he had. Oh how he loved watching rare moments of sibling love from the Holmes boys. It was better than telly!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea about Mycroft teaching Sherlock about astronomy wasn't my idea. I read it from somewhere but I can't find it anymore. If you are reading this, I hope you don't mind me borrowing it here!


	7. The Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there!! Sorry it's late and sorry if it's short but I had to stop myself from giving too much away. Things are starting to build up so stay tuned.I give you chapter seven!! Hope you enjoy!

Mycroft awakened with a gasp. Were those his memories or were they some strange side effect of being reverted to a ten year old? Did Sherlock really- he can't finish the thought. Did he really-

There was a sudden knock on the door.

"Mycroft? Is everything alright?"

It was John. He muttered a yes and was followed with a "Can I come in?" it was only polite to do so, so he said yes.

 "Did I wake you and Sherlock?" he asked while keeping his head down.

"No. We were talking when we heard you."

"Was I that loud?" he said with wide eyes.

John smiled at him.

 "No. You know Sherlock, plus you've got an ec army doctor within the premises so I wouldn't really worry about it of I were you."

He smiled politely back at John.

"Do you want a glass of water? Milk? Anything?" 

"No. I'm good thank you."

The nightmare was unnerving and he was all still bothered by it. It apparently showed on his face because John walked in his room and shut the door. He moved closwr to the bed and Mycroft scooted a bit to the left, a silent incvitation to sit on the bed.

" You could tell me." The doctor said without looking at him.

He didn't reply right away. 

Should he? Everything would be reported back to Sherlock, he was sure of it. He needed to talk to his brother but he didn't know how ask for him. Talk to him.

"You know, you Holmes boys are all so smart but you can really be such an idiot sometimes."

He raised his head and looked at John.

"Look, just talk to your brother." he gazed at him, trying to figure out just how did he read his mind.

"You two need to give me more credit. I've started teaching myself your language. "

It seems that the time that those two spemd together are productive. To both parties. Sherlock learns more about human nature and John learns how to decipher the various codes and layers Sherlock has.

"I'm sorry." Mycroft muttered without meaning to.

"Okay, I didn's said I was that good yet. What are you sorry for?"

"I don't know." he was genuinely confused. His head started hurting again.

John saw his discomfort.

"Maybe you should get some more sleep, it's late. Just call any of us if you have a nightmare again."

"Okay. Thank you John, goodnight."

Before the door closed, Mycroft spoke loud enought gor John to pause.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you." Jihn smiled to say that it was alright.

* * *

"Sherlock, did Mycroft use to have nightmares as a child?"

"I don't remember." 

Both their phones in their hands. Mycroft's assisstant hiving them updates. Both were very busy.

"Did he have any fear? Traumatic experiences?"

"Nothing that I could recall."

Jihn looked up from his phone up to his flatmate. Sherlock continied to stare and tap at his phone, unaware of the scrutiny.

"Do you remember anything at all about Mycroft as a child?"

Sherlock sighed, obviously annoyed and put his phone down. He put his head on his hands and rubbed his curls.

"Listen John, my memory of Mycroft as a child were deleted. I could remember some holidays, some lectures but not much. I could say that what I remember is an older brother who was better than me at everything. He lectured me constantly and ignored me until he left for college where he ignored me some more.I deleted things that were not important." he growled.

"You deleted memories of your brother?" that was horrible. Incomprehensible even.

"Yes. I was upset."

"What? Why? Did he broke your action man?" John asked in a mocking voice.

"John please." he grinded it out. "What do you want?" he more or less yelled at him, forgwtting that his brother and Mrs. Hudson were probably asleep.

"Sherlock, your brother is having nightmares. I just thought that maybe there were something triggering this. He was quite shaken after all. I just thought that you would know somwthing to help him. You know, like a brother." he may just as well have growled it at the detective.

"I've disappointed you." it wasn't a question, it was a deduction.

"Good. Atleast you've answered that." John took a deep breath.

"Nobody deletes memories Sherlock, especially with relatives. How could you even-"

"As I said John, I was upset. Mycroft he-" he paused.

"The first time I deleted some memories of him was when he left for college. He abandoned me." before John coukd interject, he held up a hand. " No! Stop! He abandoned me John. When he saw me passed out, high as a kite, he threw me to rehab. That's where I deleted most of his memories. I didn't want to remember him."

"He got you clean."

"After several times."

"I won't even comment on that."

"The bottomline is I know a little more than you do about Mycroft. Which isn't much help, mind you." they both sat back down on their chairs.

"I deleted memories of my brother. But lately, when I see him I-" Sherlock was whispering to hinself but John could hear him.

"I remember some memories, some I thought imI deleted."

They lapsed into silence. Both were so caught up on their thought neither heard a soft click as a door was softly closed followed by a tired sigh.

* * *

The following morning, they acted like nothing happened.

When Mycroft walked out of Sherlock's room he was a sight to behold.

There were bags under his eyes which looked swollen.

"Oh God, are you okay?" John asked. Sherlock looked at him with concern hidden in those blue eyes.

"Yes, fine. I was woken up a while after I fell asleep again. I decided to read one of Sherlock's books and I forgot about time. I hope you don't mind." 

"No. What were you reading?" 

"I can't remember. It was about some chemicals but they were boring. Unimportant." the last bit was muttered under his breath.

"I'll make you breakfast then maybe you can take a nap on the couch."

"Yes, thank you. The nap won't be necessary I assure you."

They argued for a bit. "Best just listen to him. He won't stop nagging." Sherlock muttered as he read the paper.

"John, can I read yiur blog later?"

Mycroft asked, changing the topic.

"Sure, my computer's by thr couch, read it anytime you want." 

John said. It was always good to have a new reader.

"Why not read mine?" Sherlock asked, annoged that hsi friend's blog was favored than his.

"You expect a ten year old to be interested in 400 different tabacco ashes?"

"Tabacco ashes?" Mycrodt did seem curious.

"No. Stick to my blog!"

"Your blog is full of drama John. Mine has facts."

"Shut up Sherlock!"

* * *

 

In the end, Mycroft read both their blogs. He sighed as he leaned back. It was eleven o'clock and Anthea said she'd drop by in 1 o'clock. 

Sherlock was out and John was in his room. 

His research was in-progress. Apparently, during Sherlock and John's escapades, his brother let slip that he deleted the fact about the solar system from his mind. And several other things though. He found it humorois especially from an observer's point of view but as a brother? He was hurt.

Last night Sherlock confessed that he deleted most of his memories concerning his brother. And he confirmed Mycroft's suspicion that he did do drugs at one point in his life.

He didn't know just how much his brother couldn't remember. He doesn't have much data. He wants to find out if he deleted most of their childhood or did he delete the "unimportant" ones. It hurt being called 'unimportant' albeit indirectly by your brother. 

Did his older counterpart know this? Maybe he could ask Anthea, she seemed trustworthy.

He sighed. He did have one fact that was proven though.

Sherlock Holmes only has room for one brother, and that was not him. And it hurts.

 

 


	8. The kidnapping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I really hope you enjoy this chapter.

One o'clock was approaching. Mycroft was going through his mind palace. Surely his mind still held some information his elder self had. His pride won't let him ask John nor Sherlock. Anthea was out of the question too, she would probably weave a lie-if she hadn't already- to avoid upsetting him. 

His mind was operating twice as fast as he went through room after room in his mind palace. It was frustrating. John fortunately didn't bother him and Sherlock could care less with what he was doing. 

After five more minutes, he opened his eyes with a sigh. Nothing. It seemed that the only way to access his "memories" were through the nightmares. He wasn't even sure if they were real or the product of his constantly worried mind.

Several doors in his palace were sealed shut, like something was preventing him from remembering anything. His thoughts were interrupted by Sherlock's mobile ringing.

"That was Anthea. She said to get ready on five minutes." Sherlock said as he rose from his seat.

"Where are we going?"

"Out for a walk. A car would be picking us up along the way."

That was that. They went outside, Mycroft struggled keeping up with the elder men's long strides. Somewhere while on the walk, he picked up a wallet that an old lady dropped.

"Why thank you, young man." the woman proclaimed.

"Your welcome ma'am." he said with a polite grin.

"Is that your dad?" she pointed to where Jihn and Sherlock was waiting.

"Oh, no ma'am. That's my cousin."

"Okay then. Here would you like some candy?"

He glanced at Sherlock. Asking permission like the good ten year old that he was.

Sherlock gave a small smile and nodded.

"Yes please. Thank you ma'am!" he said with a wide grin. He turned around and ran to Sherlock, before he reached his brother, he waved at the old lady and smiled at her one last time. As he reached them, his smile dropped instantly. John was unnerved by it but hid it well. 

They continued their walk and after two minutes, a car approached them followed by a text to John saying 'get in'.

The drive was quiet. John used the silwnce to think about ehat happened earlier. He couldn't forget how convinced he was with Mycroft's little performance. The way that he made his smile seem genuine and then drop it at the next moment. Even Sherlock's little cameo reminded him again how the Holmes brothers could manipulate anyone they want.

The car stopped in a seemingly ordinary apartment. As they got out, Anthea opened the door and allowed them acceaa inside.

The living room looked normal enough, except that a table was overturned with several shards of glass littered the floor around it. The couch looked worn and uncomfortable and there was an odd smell that John couldn't pinpoint where it came.

"Did you catch him?" Mycroft asked.

"No. He left minutes before we could apprehend him." Anthea answered.

"What was he doing here?" Sherlock asked as he sniffed the air and looked around The room.

"Experimenting again. Upstairs, you'll find several cats and dogs that have been 'ripped to pieces.'"

They went upstair and true enough, John was shocked at the amount of blood. Human or not thus was simply cruel.

"He was trying to recreate the substance. He didn't attempt on using a human because it will look suspicious."

" How?"

" He's new in the area. He looked for a place to stay, somewhere near his target." Sherlock's eyes met Mycroft's. " He attempted to recreate the substance but he hasn't the resources for proper experimentation."

"If locals suddenly begin to disappear during his presence the others would alert the police." Mycroft joined his brother.

"Hence the experimentation on animals, pet animals. Easy enough to acquire and won't be suspicious until it got too much."

"Why didn't the landlord notice the smell?"

John asked as he glanced at the mutilated animals. 

"The landlord lives across the street, this was his uncle's house but since he died he decided to rent it."

"No, this was his cousin's house. His cousin died and he saw an opportunity to have some extra cash for his gambling problem." Sherlock corrected his brother.

Mycroft looked around again and gazed out the window.

"Ah. Of course."

Sherlock looked smug. It was nice being the smart one.

"Back to topic. Why are we here?" John asked. Preventing the bickering that would follow.

"We need to gather clues around the house. Mr. Holmes is the best man for the job." Anthea said. And as the brother's looked around she smiled and whispered to John. "I also know that the lack of cases is driving him mad and that that is driving you mad." 

"You are heaven sent Anthea." John breathed in relief.

Meanwhile the brother's were busy gathering clues and disproving each other's theories.

"John!" Mycroft called him.

"Yes?"

"In your estimation, when was this cat killed?"

He looked at the poor feline.

"I'd say three days."

"An this dog?" 

"Two at the latest." 

Mycroft waved for him to go away like he was one of the animals. Seriously thoough, where were the manners of the polite government official he knew?

He sighed as Anthea hid a giggle. They chated for awhile. Something normal for a change. After twenty three minutes the brother's finished searching the house. 

After twenty minutes, they stopped arguing and sorted out their clues. 

Apparently, their scientist lived here for roughly the same amount of day that Mycroft arrived at baker street. Mycroft's or rather Anthea's men found him twentu two hours earlier and during the struggle, they went and tumbled in the living room. The experiments weren't damaged nor compromised but other that that, they can't find anymore. He was here for approximately ten days now.

They sorted out a timeline of events back in bakerstreet. The evidence has been bagged and would be analyzed thoroughly by Anthea's men. 

"How many days do you need to settle in?"

Mycroft asked. As Sherlock and he paced around the flat, making Anthea and John dizzy and mildly annoyed. For now.

"He needed to lay low for awhile. The men from Baskerville would have hunted him down."

"He probably stayed with a friend- a colleague of his. Perhaps one from Baskerville as well. People there seemed anti-social." Sherlock said as John scoffed.

"He probably stayed two nights and a day there. The logical plan would have been to sneak in on his friend's house when they went home. During the next night, he sneaked out and made his way here. Probably left late and arrived early morning." Anthea siggested.

"In his living room, there were magazines. Newspapers. And most importantly, a receipt from a cafe dated three days after the whole fiasco." Mycroft grinned.

"He posed as a foreigner. There were some maps across  the kitchen. Some tourist guides and all that nonesense." Sherlock muttered.

"He was posing as a tourist for a while. He looked for a flat that was cheap and close to Mycroft. He immediately started the experiments once he captured the dogs and cats."

"Well done John." Sherlock smiles at him and he doesn't know wether to be insulted or flattered.

 Anthea's phone beeped and she inwardly cursed.

"It appears that Dr. Rogers' accomplice was Steve Craig. He was linked to several murders but he aleays found a way out. He joined Baskerville about four years after Rogers."

"Where is he now?" John asked.

"He was last spotted headed to London a few days ago."

"He wasn't living in the flat we found?" Mycroft inquired. Something didn't feel right. A look to Sherlock confirmed that he felt the same.

"We aren't sure yet. I'm having the security doubled. Both here and your estate. I have to leave. I'll text you the updates."

She headed out and none bothered with a goodbye. Sherlock paced around the flat while Mycroft stayed silent at his brother's chair.

"Something isn't right." John muttered.

Years of being a soldier made his gut insticts more reliable. 

"Woohoo. Just popping in boys. I made some tea- oh who is this lad?" 

That's right. Mrs. Hudson was away during the whole fiasco, they didn't bother telling her since she haven't been checking up on them.

"Hello ma'am. My name is Michael Holmes. I'm a cousin of Sherlock's." he said with the cutest grin Mrs. Hudson ever saw. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and John smiled at the sight. If mrs. Hudson only knew.

Sherlock blocked out his landlady's blabber of how cute his cpusin was and all that nonesense. He was missing something. Why would anyone risk their neck's for someone else's work. Money? That was a given but why did they test it out on Mycroft? There were plenty of scientists and idiotic guards there. 

All the chatter immidiately stopped as a window shattered. smoke filled the flat and the four coughed. 

"Don't inhale anything. It's a drug." Sherlock tried warning them but it was already too late. He felt his eyes rebel against his will and saw Mrs. Hudson fall to the ground, already unconscious. John was next.

He himself felt the effect and the last thing he saw was a man in a gas mask running to their flat and trying to grab his brother.

"Sherlock! Help!" Mycroft tried screaming at him but the drug weakened him almost instantly. Mycroft was still trying to get away but ended up being punched in the gut by the assailant. That pain and the drug finally rendered him unconscious. 

He tried to reach out but as he laid on the ground, confused and on the verge of unconsciousness, he could only saw the  _fucking_ man drag his brother away.

He never felt so useless

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confused? So am I. Bear with me hear, explations will be on their way soon. Or will they!?


	9. Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the very long wait! Life happened so yeah! Hope you enjoy!

_"Sherlock? What are you doing under the bed?"_

_"That's captain 'Wild Willy' Sherlock to you commodore! I am currently looking for treasure as you see."_

_Mycroft chuckled as he held an umbrella behind him while approaching the bed._

_"Wild Willy? Sounds more lika a viking name if you ask me."_

_"I'll have you walking the plank for that one!"_

_"Well, Captain Sherlock?"_

_Sherlock peeked under the bed and saw his brother with an umbrella poised in a position that made it look like a sword. Clever and all, but the umbrella was pointing centimeters away from his nose._

_"Commodore Holmes! We face off once again!" he yelled as he dove back in the bed and emerged to the other side holding a wooden sword. He jumped on the bed and pointed it at his brother._

_"Captain Sherlock, in the name of queen Mummy, I shall make you eat your vegetables."_

_"Never. I will not eat until you beat me in a duel commodore!"_

_The brother's began their duel. Outside the door, their laughter could be heard as they yelled out in a good impression of "pirate-accent"._

* * *

"Mycroft!"

Sherlock awakened in his room in a cold sweat. Was that a dream or a memory? Why was he even asleep anyway? He grabbed the phone in his pocket and checked the time. 

five-forty seven. Odd. 

After his thoughts cleared, he remembered what happened. The chatter, the shattering of the window, the gas, Mycroft being...MYCROFT!

He stood up and opened his door, his phone in his hand as he dialed Anthea- was in thre living room?

He paused and looked as Anthea sat on a couch while two men stood guard, each having a gun pointed at a man tied to a chair. 

"You're awake."

"Where's Michael?" he asked, remembering the alias. Anthea nodded at the men and they left, closing the door behind them.

"Where is he?" he nearly growled at her. He felt like his stomach was going round and round. His heart-rate was increasing as well, he needs to ask John about these later.

"Upstairs. John is looking over him."

"I thought you had people monitoring this place, how could he get in?" he pointed at the tied up man.

She wasn't surprised that he was able to deduce it. "We did, this man was posing as a client. As he got in the flat, the men were in position to intervene, they were positioned across the flat."

She paused as she glanced at her blackberry.

"A teenager, caused the smoke. He was paid to throw it by this guy, he is currenlty in the hands of NSY."

"Does he know who Michael is?"

He glared at the man. If looks could kill, the poor man would have disintegrated fifteen seconds ago.

"Yes." Anthea said as she gave him a smile. "I was about to send him to interrogation but would you mind watching him for say...Fifteen minutes? After you see him though." she said with an evil glint in her eyes.

"I would be happy too. Take all the time you need, no need to rush." he glared at the man as he turned and headed to John's room.

* * *

 John read a newspaper while sitting in an armchair by the bed. On the bed, Mycroft sat while reading the book that they bought. John was pretending to read though, Mycroft saw him glancing at him everytime he thinks he doesn't know.

John gazed at the child with worry. Thwy almost let him get kidnapped. It was worrying really. Mycroft received a solid punch in the stomach for that, luckily he didn't break any ribs, just bruised which is a miracle in itself.

Sherlock was closest to the smoke bomb while Mycroft was the farthest. That was the explanation he got from Anthea on why his friend was still tucked in his bed as he woke up. Mycroft was already awake by then and other than the insistamce that he was fine, hasn't said a word.

He nearly jumped as the door opened, revealing his flatmate. "You could knock, you know?"

"Are you alright?" Sherlock ignored him as he approached his brother.

"I'm fine."Mycroft said without looking away from his book.

"Did he do anything else to you?" 

Mycrift sighed and looked Sherlock in the eye.

"I'm fine."

"Don't lie to me, Mycroft."

"Stop bothering me, Sherlock."

Sherlock was surprised, not by the tone nor the words. No, suddenly he was outside his brother's room begging to play. 

"You remember something." It wasn't a question, it was a deduction. 

"So what?"

"How much?" he ignored his brother's uncharacteristic manner. 

"I don't know. To give you an answer I'll need all of my memories just to be sure now don't I?" the ginger-haired boy screamed at Sherlock.

"Obviously your sudden gain of memory made you act like an ordinary ten year old. Annoying, bratty and-"

"Sherlock."

As he lost patience with his brother, he didn't notice that the other turned his face away. As John grabbed his attention, he already knew why. He opened his mouth to rave some morw but he hheard the door shut. John left, he couldn't nake out why though, privacy? Most likely.

"Mycroft? Look, I know you're upset." he walked to the otherside and took his brother's tear-stained face in his hands. He wiped the tears away with his thumbs as his fingers held his brother's chubby cheeks.

"I'm scared, Sherlock. Don't let him take me away."

He said as he grabbed Sherlock's arm tightly.

"I won't Mye. Don't worry."

"Promise?" 

"Aye, commodore Holmes."it was a shot in the dark. A poor attempt to comfort his brother, to convince him that he was important, that he wasn't deleted.

 The bright smile that greeted him made his heart skip a beat. It was comforting to him as well. Maybe he wasn't such of a failure as a brother then?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shortness but it felt like I needed to seperate this from the other part. I promise to make it up to you in the next chapters! Sorry for any errors. Hope you enjoyed!


	10. Awkward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry for the delay! Does the pacing seem slow to you? Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Mycroft was sitting on John's bed, he was still reading the book they bought but he kept hearing noises downstairs. John didn't enter after his brother left so he assumed they were discussing some things. They were rather violent though, he could hear banging and what he supposed was a chair, being tossed around. Just when he thought he finally had some well deserved peace, the door opened revealing his PA.

"Hello sir, how are you feeling?" still with the sir? Never mind, the woman was as stubborn as he and his brother. That's probably why she was still in his employ.

"Hello Anthea, I'm feeling fine. Thank you for asking." he motioned for her to sit on the armchair as he sat up straighter.

"I deeply apologize for what happened sir. I would-"

"You don't have to apologize, Anthea. It was after all part of the plan, remember? I do recall saying that I would do anything necessary;If my memory is correct -and it most certainly is- then I could say without a doubt that I was the one who convinced you all to agree."

Anthea looked at her employer in the eyes and saw his sincerity. It was exactly what he would have said if he was back to his old self, the exact 'the ends justify the means' attitude he puts up everyday in the office.

"I will do my best to not let this kind of situation happen again."

"That's all I ask." 

Mycroft stared at his hands for a moment, trying to weigh his options.

"Anthea?" 

She blinked at his tone. There were no traces of the confidence she heard earlier, instead an innocent, soft voice replaced it. She almost thought that it sounded somewhat...lost.

"Sir?"

"Could I ask you something?"

"Within reason sir. And within your current clearance." she smiled as she tried to lighten the mood.

"Of course." he gave a small smile. 

* * *

"Your fifteen minutes is up."

"I know."

As Anthea entered the living room of 221B, Sherlock was sitting in his chair as John was wiping his hands. Their 'guest' was still in the chair and still with the duct tape in his mouth. He was sporting a black eye, a cut on the cheek several bruises and other than possible internal injuries, he seemed alright.

"I see you had your share, Dr. Watson."

" I don't know what you're talking about. If you need me, I'll be checking in on Mrs. Hudson."

Their landlady was fine, when the team arrived and dealt with the man, they checked on her and put her downstairs in her room. Anthea heard her makimg tea for the men downstairs as she passed her door. Not their housekeeper indeed.

"What exactly did you do to him?"

"Oh just a few punches here and there. Nothing too serious." she rolled her eyes at him. 

"And Dr. Watson?"

"A threat or two then he made sure our guest is alright. Doctor first and whatnot."

Anthea typed on her phone. Messaging the men who would escort the man to interrogation.

"Did you find anything important" 

"No." the men arrived and before she could leave he grabbed her arm. The sudden physical contact shocked her and she caught herself almost perform a choke hold on him. He vaguely seemed surprise.

"I want the details as soon as you get them from him" 

"Of course mister Holmes." she smiled at him then she was gone.

* * *

After dinner, Mycroft went to bed early. John and Sherlock were discussing the day's event while seated on their respective armchairs.

"Something's not right." the detective said as he broke from his reverie.

"No shit, Sherlock." John sipped his tea while his flatmate ignored his comment.

"Not a word, John. Not even when I was puching his face. Not even a name." Sherlock nearly growled.

"Maybe he was the one living in the flat?" 

"I don- I need them John." Sherlock stared at John.

"No." John shifted on his seat. He could practically hear the deductions as his friend's eyes roamed.

"What is that your hiding in your pocket? Ah, is that my stash? I see, you've been anticipating it-"

"No I wasn't." he fidget in his seat.

"You were expecting that I would be frustrated especially with today's events and I would need som-"

"No-n-- No!G-get away Sherlock!"

John stumbled out his arm chair while Sherlock chased him like a lion to his prey. seriously though, how could anyone expect these two to babysit a child when they are practically children themselves?

Sherlock grabbed John's arm but John wrenched it away.

"Sherlock, I swear to God I will punch you if you don't stop-gah! Did you just bite me!?" 

* * *

 Mycroft groaned, what was John and Sherlock doing? They were so noisy it's a wonder why Mrs. Hudson wasn't storming in to demanding explanations. Here he thought he could manage his thoughts in peace. Maybe it wasn't wise to ask Anthea that question, then again it would just have gnawed on him if he didn't. He knows more about his brother and John thanks to Anthea but he still can't get why there's this hostility between his brother and his older-self. 

John's blog has been censored by the doctor and it didn't hold that much detail. Sherlock's was l, well... It was enlightening to know how much his brother know about tabacco ash and several other things he should not be reading in his current age. It wasn't perverted things, mind you, it was gory and full of detail. He was glad he had a tough stomach after he came across a icture of a corpse with rats eating his eyes. 

There was another round of shouting and tumblings. 

"...did you just bite me!?"

He sighed as he made his way to the door to the living room.

The first thing he saw was how messy it was. He thought there was an attack but then his hearing jumped in. There was a thud like someone was slammed into something.

"Ow! Sherlock stop-" he turned his head to the right and regretted it as soon as caught sight of Sherlock and John.

Sherlock had John pinned to the wall, his left hand making John's stay put while the right was...doing...something...in John's trousers. Mycroft shook his head as he closed is eyes.

"You do realize that Mrs. Hudson is awake downstairs and you currently have a ten year old-who is Sherlock's brother by the way- with deductive abilities like said brother, in a room just a few feet away? And you wonder why people spread rumors." Mycroft smirked as he turned around. "I imagine Mrs. Hudson will have a field day tomorrow if she witnessed what I did just now."

 They were acting like children, Mycroft shook his head. Then again, maybe they were acting like adult. Adults that- no, no need to traumatize him further.

"Mycroft! Mycroft, Jesus, that was not what it looked like!" 

As John tried to convince Mycroft, Sherlock smiled at his prize. Three nicotine patches. Not much but it will have to do.

He sighed as ploped down the sofa. If only he had been really thorough with John, perhaps he could've gotten more.

* * *

Needless to say that breakfast was awkward.

"Mycroft-"

"Don't worry about it John." Mycroft yawned as he ate his cereal.

"Yeah, that's just it. I don't know wether it's a good or a bad thing."

"What's all the ruckus last night? I could hardly hear the telly." Mrs.Hudson came with tea.

Mycroft smirked as John blushed. Sherlock, as always remained impassive.

"Tell me something productive came from that embarassing moment yesterday." John mumbled to Sherlock.

"I still haven't figured out most-" his phone beeped "It's a text from Anthea." he said as he checked his phone.

Mrs. Hudson refilled John's tea and asked Mycroft if he wanted to more milk. He politely declined and she went down her own flat, not their housekeeper indeed.

"It seems like our kidnapper is named Tony Strickland. A criminal currently trying to climb the social ladder of the criminals." Sherlock said as he sipped his tea.

"How long has he been active?" Mycroft asked as he munched on his cereal.

"The first report was a bank robbery three years ago."

"Not that experienced then. But.." John trailed off as Sherlock smiled. "But?"

"If he doesn't have much experience then how could he have made that smoke bomb? And how come he didn't say a word during your questioning?"

"Good one." Mycroft grinned. "I suppose hanging around my brother has that effect on people.

"Cleverness is not contagious Mycroft, we tried remember?" The detective stood up and began pacing around the flat.

"Anthea managed to get his records, what was left of it apparently. He was an only son of a bank owner. When his mother died his father began drinking. as he was drunk he sometimes beats his son but as years passed he got addicted to gambling. It's easy to figure out where this is going."

"What exactly did you do to him?" the currently younger Holmes asked his brother.

"Nothing too severe. It just resulted in a black eye, broken collar bone, two bruised ribs, one likely broken." 

"So he had prior experience in those. But how did he manage to pull one over the guards?"

Sherlock paused his pacing, thinking. "He was a Phys.Ed. Major and his grades suggests he couldn't have made the-"

"Could he have bought them?" Mycroft interrupted his brother. " No, it was home-made. Anthea had it scanned."

There was a brief silence in the flat. " Could he have been hired by our scientist?" The ten year old boy asked.

"Perhaps. We can't know for certain until Anthea's men break him.

* * *

"I'm bored." 

John sighed. it was the seventh time he heard it half an hour. this time it was muttered by Mycroft. He really missed the more polite and mature civil servant.

"I thought you were solving the cases Sherlock was too bored to read." 

he glanced at the couch and saw the boy laying down with the phone in his hand, still typing.:"I am but it's all boring. Half of them are affairs and-"

"Where is your brother?" honestly. He is going to go mad soon and he needs someone to watch Mycroft.

"in his room." the younger Holmes yawned.

"John?" The good doctor looked up, a scowl on his face. It vamished when he saw Mycroft's face. He looked dazed and confused and that worried John. "What is it?"

Mycroft shook his head. "Could you pick up some milk later? I'm afraid Sherlock used it all up for an experiment eatlier."

John stared at Mycroft. There was somethimg he was hiding and he was determined find it. For now, it's best not to let it show. "Sure."

* * *

It was past noon as Anthea visited. She gave the files to Sherlock and explained their situation. The plan was to continue to act normal despite what happened.

John struggled to keep up with the conversation. He was distracted by Mycroft's face earlier, Sherlock will probably repeat it later to him so he doesn't worry. He glanced at Mycroft and for a second, just before he blinked, he saw something shine in his eyes. It was immidiately gone after thr blink. Their eyes meet for a fractiom of a second after and the boy's eyes was asking if everything was fine. He smiled and he got a smile in return, if possible he looked even younger.

As their little gathering ended, he followed Anthea out while saying he is going to go shopping. The brothers shrugged and he saw Mycroft follow Sherlock somewhere in the flat.

"Get in the car Dr. Watson."

He was used to this after Mycroft's several kidnappings, he went in willingly and as he shut the door Anthea stared at him.

"There's something wrong with Mycroft."

He sighed out as the driver drove through the streets of London. 

"I know."

"Could it be the drug?"

"We can't know for certain. Do you know how much he remembers?"

"No. Sherlock's trying to figure it out. He makes several references of their past but I can't really tell if Mycroft's reaction is genuine or not."

"He knows about the drugs. He asked me about it yesterday." John gaped at her.

"Apparently he sometimes have dreams about the past. That's how he knew about the drugs." 

John processed the information. He knew about Mycroft's dreams-nightmares actually- Sherlock does too. 

"He seems troubled." he muttered.

"I agree." Anthea sighed. "Sometimes I just want to cut the Holmeses open to see what they are really feeling."

"You and me both."

* * *

 As John got back, two grocery bags in hand, he saw the brothers by Sherlock's microscope, bothe wearing protective glasses and gloves.

John peered at their supposed experiment. He couldn't make out what it...wait. is that? 

"Is that our dinner?" he asked in exasperation. The brothers ignored him and continued their experiment. Looks like they were eating chinese again tonight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all the JohnLock shippers out there, did you enjoy my little treat for you? Sorry to say but there won't be any shipping in this story. There will be no romance in this story, unless you squint really really hard.  
> Hope you enjoyed!


	11. Problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the shortness of this chapter, not to memtion the lateness. College is hard!! I need more than 5 hours of sleep to survive a two hour long trip thank you very much! Anyway, I'm hoping that I could write the next chapter soon but with all the activities going along. *Sigh*   
> Sometimes I wished I had Mycroft's brain.

_His mind palace was huge. There were some places he never remembered existed, like a plaxe with crimson walls and carpet. He couldn't access amy information in those rooms._

_He walked along the familiar corridors and opened a door, his bedroom back at their house, and gazed at the interior. The novels he read by the fireplace stored in there, the memories he shared with his brother. He sighed, sentiment would be the death of him someday. He sighed as he walked into a more unfamiliar territory. He just knows that he has been here before, the doors won't open. Locked. He cursed himself, perhaps he could fashion a lock pick, was that even possible._

_Oh!_

_His past memories, his nightmares seemed to help boost his memory. With every memory he has, there is a corresponding emotion. He could channel that emotion and try yo map out his current memories to unlock it. It was just like building a spider web._

_Start small and work your way out._

_In all honesty, everything doesn't need to have to be this complicated. He could just try to pin-point who exactly tried to kill him and work there._

_He shook his head. It was better to be prepared._

_He pictured a plain room. And laid out his memories like cards in front of him. He studied them, tried to relive them, something was bound to happen. Something flashed, it was gone before he could see it clearly, he knows the picture but he can't remember it. Damn it!_

_He heard a noise and ignored it. It became louder thus more annoying. He wanted to scream at it to shut the fu-_

* * *

 

"-croft? Mycroft? Breakfast is ready!" John shook him awake. Morning already? He yawned and got up from bed, he glanced at the clock. 7:30. John seemed to read his mind and as he sat down and ate the toast John said

"Lestrade called a few minutes ago. Had Sherlock practically bouncing of the walls. I figured you and I would fancy some breakfast before he runs off."

"Thank you."

He finished the toast quickly and soon enough, they were in an alley somewhere-no surprise that someone got muredered here- between a pub and brothel. Was that even legal? Possible? The joys of being a legal adult, he rolled his eyes.

"Who's this?" Donovan asked as Sherlock lifted the police tape to let Mycroft pass.

"He's with me."

Sherlock pulled Mycroft's arm and as they approached Lestrade, the detective raised an eyebrow at them.

"You can't just let a kid in here! This is a crime scene."

"It's fine Greg, this is Sherlock's cousin."

"Cousin?" Greg asked as Sherlock looked at the body. Mycroft stayed for politeness alone.

"Does his brother know about this?"

"Detective Inspector Lestrade? My name is Michael Holmes. Sorry for the trouble but Sherlock will look after me for a few weeks because Mycroft can't because of his schedule. Mycroft said that I should never go anywhere without Sherlock or John so I really can't go anywhere else." He doesn't have much patience for these things. Perhaps he could follow Sherlock.

"Oi! Where you goin'?" Lestade pulled him away from the body.

"Taking a look? You know my cousins, I'm used to these things." He sighed as John tried to fight off a laugh.

"I just can't let anyone in there. I'm bending the rules for Sherlock but for a minor? Not to mention a-nine? Ten year old? No way!"

Lestrade just had enough with these Holmes'. Stubborn bastards.

"You know what, let's just stay out of this Michael. Let's call and annoy Mycroft instead, yeah?" John dragged him away as he pouted. "I'll buy you some candy." "Let's go!" he yelled with a grin. Lestrade shook his head, he has to hand it to the kid though, he was cute.

As soon as they got out the scene and into a nearby shop, Mycroft let his grin fall.

"You really do have a Holmes temper."

"You haven't seen anything yet."

* * *

"How was he murdered?"

"He was stabbed. Gutted more accurately though. His organs, heart, lungs, kidneys, intestines, were dug out and removed. No prints, marks, the police have yet to get an identification. No one reported any screaming or odd behavior earlier."

"Could be for the black market?"

"Most likely. Let's go home. This was boring."

"Sherlock?"

"Michael."

"I don't feel so good."

Sherlock grabbed his brother and carried him. They hailed a cab and called Anthea before driving of to 221B.

* * *

John had Mycroft lowered on the sofa and ordered his flat-mate for a basin, water and some towels. A bucket as well for good measure. 

He put his hand on the boy's forehead amd fiund it warm. Fever. He grabbed a thermometer for good measure. 

He cursed as his assumption was confirmed.

Sherlock returned and theu moved him to the bedroom where they stripped him and changed him to some pyjamas. John put a wet towel on Mycroft's forehead.

"Why is he sick? There were no other symptoms that could have indicated illness for the past few days."

"I will guess it's because of of all the age-regression thing. He was probably fighting off a flu before this and now that his immune system is not as good as his past one," John trailed off.

"That does not make sense."

"None of this make sense."

Anthea arrived a few minutes later.

"Is he alright?"

"He should be fine. Just a bad case of the flu." 

Anthea did not look re-assured. "Do you mind giving blood samples for the doctors to test. This could be a side-effect of the age-regression."

"Right-o. Give me a sec."

With the sample in her hands, Anthea poked her head in to make sure her employer was fine, then she left the flat.

* * *

Sherlock sat at the other side of his bed as his brother mumbled things in his sleep. His fever rose and John was beginning to worry.

"Sherlock?" Mycroft looked at him with fever-glossed eyes. "I don't feel well."

"It's alright, Mye. I have a doctor here. Don't worry." he patted his brother's head. Mycroft held grabbed his arm.

"Don't leave me alone."

"I won't."

"Don't leave me alone Sherlock." Mycroft said, already half asleep. "Not again." he yawned as Sherlock froze.

Again?

What did Mycroft mean by 'again?' He tried to remember but he probably deleted that memory. If not, Mycroft must be hallucinating. Which is bad.

John knocked on the door and saw Sherlock's arm being held by his brother. He didn't say anything.

"Here are some medicine. If he wakes up, call me and we'll try to make him eat some soup then give him some more medicine. The ones I gave him should be kicking in  in a few more moments."

Sherlock looked distracted.

"Look, I get that you're worried. I am too. I know that you think that there is no possible solution for a person to be ill in a matter of hours but remember that your brother did get himself younger. Nothing makes sense. If anything happens, Anthea will call. Don't worry."

"I'm not worried." Sherlock denied. 

"'Course you are not!" he said as he closed the door.

Maybe he should try calling Anthea. He has some questions.

* * *

A figure drank some scotch on his chair.

"Is everything going according to plan?"

"Yes, sir."

The figure grinned and put the glass tiwards his lips. The alchohol washed his worries away amd he grinned as he stared at the window.

"Just a few more days, pet."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again I apologize for the shortness. I hope you enjoyed. Next chapter woukd feature a few more parts from sick!Mycroft. I zjuust so love to torture my favorite characters!!


	12. Flashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well would you look at that;I still don't have a regular update date. I'm apologizing in advance because something came up in school and I will get really busy, very soon. 
> 
> This chapter is a little more light-hearted than my regular writing. Weird. -_-
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Sherlock paced around the house. He can't play the violin lest he disturb Mycroft's rest. John went out to grab some more medicine.(and milk. Why is milk always disappearing in the flat?) 

His brother woke up briefly and Mrs. Hudson practically shoved the spoon of soup down his throat so he could take his medicine. Sherlock left the room immediately. It brought a weird feeling in his gut everytime he sees Mycroft like that.

Remembering his brother's youthful counterpart is already making his head spin, nevermind a sick younger Mycroft.

He remembered that his brother was prone to illness back then. Sherlock would be the accident-prone one but Mycroft always caught colds easily. Not that he would let it interfere with his studies, Mycroft used to work the sickness away. How he managed that was beyond Sherlock. He briefly recalled an incident where Mycroft caught a nasty case of pneumonia and didn't tell their parents until he collapsed in school. That was a not-good moment as John would say.

Back to topic;He was not worried about Mycroft. Children have colds all the time. He'll ge-

A series of coughs stopped his thoughts. Without thinking, he rushed to the kitchen and filled a glass with water and hurried to his brother. Mycroft sat up, trying to stiffle his coughs and failing miserably. He handed it to him and Mycroft took it gratefully. 

He downed it quickly and placed it on the bedside table as he settled back to bed, sighing.

Sherlock studied Mycroft before putting a hand to his forehead.

"It appears your temperature has lowered."

"Yes."

"Do you need anything else?"

"Not really."

Sherlock stood there awkwardly, debating wether to stay or retreat. Mycroft sighed, sensing his brother's distress. Just like old times.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

Mycroft bit his lower lip. Should he? He tried to maintain some scrap of reason but his inner sick ten year old won out. Blast dignity, he was sick!

"Stay?"

"Alright."

Sherlock laid down as Mycroft scooted away. As the detective laid down Mycroft scooted back to his chest. His arms automatically wrapped around Mycroft. The ten-year old sighed as he fell back to sleep, all the while, dare he say it, cuddling closer to Sherlock.

The consulting detective waited until his brother's breathing evened out before he sighed. 

His brother looked so vulnerable, as if he was a porcelain doll which could break at the softest touch of a careless hand. He wanted to shield his brother. 

His brow furrowed. Was this how Mycroft felt-feels as he watched his brother throw himself into danger's path? 

His arms tightened around his brother. He suddenly had a realization, it was his turn to be the big brother. It was his turn to be the protective, elder brother. Having no other siblings, he never experienced the worry that went hand in hand with being an elder sibling. He always assumed that being the eldest would be so much easier.

He was wrong. It was terrifying.

Not that he would admit it. He needn't worry about raising his brother, he needn't worry about teaching Mycroft everything he knew. His brother will be back to normal in no time.

He just needed to protect him till then.

Still, it felt odd being the one to hold his brother. It felt wrong and yet, maybe things would have been different if they just interacted like ordinary brothers. Then again, things could have turned out worst.

He still had not found out anything new about his brother but they were making progress.

His brother's warm temperature worried him slighltly but it has gone down a little bit. He sighed as his brother's breathing calmed him.

He fell asleep soon enough.

* * *

Anthea sighed in relief. The test results came back and she was relieved to find everything to be alright. Just a case of the cold. 

Her employer would be alright with enough medicine and bedrest.

She sent a text to John informing him of the situation as she got into the car.

She had a meeting with some diplomats who just can't wait till the election of some country has been done.

The black town car drove smoothly along London, a passenger tapping away at their phone.

* * *

John came back with the medicine and some groceries. Anthea informed him that everything was fine. As he placed the bags in the counter he listened. Silence.

Oh no.

Silence was mostly never a good thing in 221B. He immediately opened the door which Mycroft resided in quietly, in case there was someone else.

He nearly yelled-not squeeled- in surprise. They were absolutely adorable. No words can describe them more accurately. He fished his phone out of his pockets and snapped a picture then closed it quickly lest he awakens his roommate. He giggled. If he were a girl, he probably would have squeeled at the cuteness, nevermind if he was a 'fangirl' as other people called them.

He suddenly had an image of a dragon with a child nestled against it as the tail playfully wrapped around the child.

He shook his head. He should really limit his readings of fantasy books. And internet. He should definitely avoid the internet for awhile.

* * *

By dinner time, Mycroft ate the chicken soup Mrs. Hudson insisted on preparing. John gave him more medicine then he was back to bed.

John checked on him again at ten only to find that his fever spiked. He cursed beneath his breath as he called Sherlock. They managed to lower it a little over two a.m., both men running on tea and coffee. 

Oddly enough, despite their many all-nighters, they felt more exhausted than ever. Sherlock could have sworn he felt like he hadn't slept for three days. Both men dozed on seperate chairs in Mycroft's temporary room, waking occasionally to check on their patient.

At six, Mycroft woke up to the sight of John and Sherlock asleep on chairs that didn't look very comfortable. He felt a little better but fell back into sleep.

Eight a.m. was the time Mrs. Hudson woke the three up and served them breakfast. Mycroft's temperature was higher than normal but come nine-thirty it was gone. John confined him to the flat until tomorrow, just to be sure. 

They were in the living room when the migraine attacked. John reading the paper and Sherlock tapping away on his laptop. Mycroft was reading a book about history when he felt the pulsing ache beneath his eyes. He tried it make it go away but then it increased.

 He can't remember much after but he heard John asking him what's wrong and probably Sherlock deducing that it was a mmigraine but then his senses were assaulted with flashes. 

Memories.

It was like a key being handed to him and he rushed around his mind-palace to unlock the many rooms. 

After a few seconds he was back.

"Maybe we should get you to a doctor."

"No doctors." he muttered as he pinched the brodge of his nose. He was handed a glass of water and he worked out that they had given him his painkillers. 

"Maybe there's something wrong with you."

He raised an eyebrow.

"More than that of course. You know, health-wise."

"It's nothing, John."

"Did you remember anything?" the consulting detective asked out of the blue.

He blinked.

"Just some flashes. I can't make sense of them yet but-" he trailed off.

"Maybe you should lie down."

"I agree."

* * *

_"I don't know about this."_

_"It will be fine."_

_"What if we get in trouble?"_

_"We won't."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confused? So am I! Really sorry for not updating. Things have been quite hectic here and frankly, I'm still making this up as I go. Half of this was written a looonng time ago while other parts were made while I was not listening to some of my classes.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you look at that? I'm still alive. Sorry if i haven't posted earlier, I was buried in a lot of things. I wanted to update this before I have my exams. I swear that this week will kill me. 
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy.

****

Anthea was tapping furiously at her blackberry. So far, security has caught three civilians being paid to vandalize Baker Street. It was obviously to cause a distraction which means the threat of another kidnapping is still there. John and Sherlock had been alerted and since Mycroft is feeling under the weather, they decided to keep him out of the loop. He had enough sense not to go looking around if he heard something suspicious. Technically, he’s been feeling fine for two days now, but with him getting glimpses of his memories, they decided not to give him further stress.

They are still trying to work out just exactly what was it he was remembering but John could only provide so much information. Sherlock was frustrated; he can’t crack his brother enough.

Right now, some blunder of a politician sounds so minor compared to their current situation.

She arrived at Baker Street right on schedule.

“Any news?”

“Our scientists still haven’t found a clue. Security is okay.” She lifted her eyes to John and Sherlock discreetly.

“London will not fall.”

“I could barely care if does.” Sherlock muttered.

“Where’s Mycroft?” She asked when she noticed her boss was not perched on the couch as usual.

“Locked himself in the bedroom. He was getting restless, kept saying that he needs to go outside or he’ll turn absolutely bonkers.” John said as he offered her tea.

“He does love to be dramatic.” Sherlock muttered as John rolled his eyes.

“Maybe you could calm him down; if he’s anything like his brother surely you had to calm him down sometimes.” Anthea gave an enigmatic smile before going to the door.

She knocked on the door softly. “Mr. Holmes?”

The door was opened slightly, Mycroft peeking out to make sure John and Sherlock wasn’t nearby.

“Hello Anthea.” He said as he sat down on a chair, gesturing for her to sit down on another.

“I heard you were having a temper tantrum.” She raised her eyebrow.

“I was not.”

She met his stare without hesitation. After a minute or two he sighed in defeat.

“I need to get out. It’s suffocating here.”

“You know why you can’t.”

“I know. And I’m not stupid to think that everything would be fine. I calculated enough possibilities. I made up at least fifteen likely scenarios on how to sneak out and nine different outcomes they could cause. I’ve banned Sherlock and John in here just to spite them and I add sugar to John’s coffee when he’s not looking. I also adjusted Sherlock’s violin just enough for it to annoy him and I can’t do anything to Mrs. Hudson, frankly she scares me a little sometimes I-“

“Mycroft.” She said, stopping his rant. He looked at her, eyes wild and heart pounding.

He never looked more like his brother. The Iceman was nowhere to be seen.

“Calm down. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Anthea I can’t do it anymore.” He cried as he stood up and paced around the room, arms wildly moving wildly as he explained. “I feel anxious. I can’t stay put, I don’t know what I have to do.”

“I saw my brother sprawled on a dirty floor with a needle stuck to his arm. I saw myself undergo some sort of…interrogation. I saw myself conducting interrogation. I feel like if I don’t get out soon I’ll snap.”

Anthea was shocked. No wonder he felt suffocated.

“Mr. Holmes everything will be alright. You were the one that saved Sherlock that night. You got him cleaned. What do you remember about being interrogated?”

“Not much. They were just there, I saw a moment but before I could focus on them, they just go away. I could barely remember any faces.” He sat down in the chair again.

“I don’t want to sound bad but you can’t tell any specific detail to John and Sherlock. Classified information and all. You can tell them about the event but not names or places.”

“I understand.”

“I’ll see what I could do about going outside. So just try to stay put.”

She gave him a small smile. Mycroft looked confused so she let him process his thoughts properly before standing up. “Anthea.” He spoke before she could reach the door.

She looked at him expectantly.

“Thank you.” He murmured.

She grinned at her boss before turning away.

He never was good with thanking people, not to mention apologizing.

* * *

 

Sherlock was scrolling through his laptop. John was skimming over files that Sherlock looked over earlier. Anthea was sending them information to probably keep them busy; John can’t help but feel grateful for the umpteenth time. God knows how Mycroft would react if his brother begins to shoot the wall, especially If John was not around.

The silence was broken by a terrified scream that sent chills down their spines. They got up immediately and rushed to Mycroft. Sherlock nearly broke the door when he opened it, running towards his brother. Mycroft’s cheeks were stained by tears, his body shaking. Sherlock instinctively grabbed him by the shoulders to see what was wrong but he immediately pulled away as his brother flinched, swatting his hand away.

“Get away from me!” the small child cried as he curled into a ball. His knees were pulled back to his chest while his arms held them in place tightly, his face buried in them.

“Mycroft. Mycroft, listen to me. It’s your brother, Sherlock.”Sherlock hesitantly laid a hand on his brother’s head, gently running is fingers through his brother’s hair.

“Sherlock?” Mycroft peaked through his arms, making sure it was his brother.

“Yes, Myc. You just had a nightmare.”

Mycroft crawled to the detective’s chest, feeling secure as he rested against him while his brother wrapped two arms around his smaller frame.

Sherlock bit his lip.

“Everything’s okay now.” he said as he rubbed circles on his brother’s back.

“I know.” Mycroft gasped out as he tried to rein in his emotions. He pulled away from Sherlock, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “I’m sorry.”

“You should drink this.” John handed him a glass of milk. He hurried away before he witnessed the Holmes’ sentimentality and made himself useful elsewhere. Mycroft gazed at the glass suspiciously before grabbing it, warming his hands but not drinking it yet.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dr. Watson asked as he tried to figure out what was wrong.

“I’m okay now. It was just a nightmare.”

“Talking might help.”

“It’s nothing, really. I can barely remember anything. Just some-“ He faltered as he remembered a young man crumpled down on the floor as a gunshot rang out. He remembered the sting of a whip and the screams that followed. He bit his lip to control the sobs that threatened to burst.

“Legwork. Classified and all that.” He muttered as he sipped some of the milk.

“Mycroft.” Sherlock stared at his brother’s shaken form. He looked as if he wanted to say something. “Finish your milk. We’ll be outside if you need us.” He tore his gaze away from his brother as he got up from the bed.

The child took large gulps from the obviously drugged milk. “Don’t yell at Anthea just because she’s doing her job.” He muttered as he handed the glass back, rearranging the blanket as he laid back down.

* * *

 

Anthea came over the next day and they had a long chat. She had a longer chat with the doctor and detective while she had a staring competition with the said detective. Just before she left, she tapped a few keys on her blackberry.

“We’ve also got a breakthrough for the cure.”

Mycroft sat upright at the news. John and Sherlock stole a glance from the child before going back to Anthea.

“Really?”

“Sixty-three percent of the rats that they were testing it on survived but are still being observed.”

“And the other thirty-seven percent?”

“It wasn’t pretty.” Anthea breathed out. “We won’t be testing it on any humans yet but rest assured our scientists are doing the best that they could.”

“What about the scientist responsible for the mess?”

“There have been reported sightings of him; they’re not that reliable though. And we can’t have a fix on his location. We have, however confirmed that he has a friend.” That piqued Sherlock’s interest.

“That’s all that I could share though.” John frowned.

“Why?”

“It’s a need to know basis.” Anthea bit her lip

“IT would be safer if we were informed. We could prepa-“

“I don’t like this as well but it’s-“

“Will you all just shut up?” Mycroft rubbed the bridge of his nose. They were giving him a headache.

* * *

 

_“I don’t like this plan.”_

_“You don’t have to like it, just do it.”_

_“What if we get caught?”_

_“Simple. We don’t”_

_“What’s so special about the kid anyway?”_

_“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you. Now, is everything ready?”_

_“Everything’s been ready for two days now.”_

_“Excellent.”_

 

 

 

 


	14. The Calm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, calm down. Please don't be angry. I know it took forever but please forgive me. I start school again on monday so this is my gift to you. Advance Happy Independence day Philippines! Ironic how that's my last day of freedom XD.
> 
> ANYWAY, I hope you enjoy. As always, comments are welcomed and suggestions are hugged.

"Stopped sulking I see." John remarked as Mycroft came out off Sherlock's bedroom just before the clock struck 6:30 pm.

"I was not sulking."

"Of course, you weren't." the blogger rolled his eyes.

Sherlock was busy looking at something with his microscope. Probably another foot from the morgue.

He flopped in the couch, burying his face in it. He wanted his memories back.The nightmare he ahd the first night he stayed here were of being on some sort of holding cell. The emotion that goes alongside  it is helplessness. Just what he was feeling in the lab. All the people were around him and he couldn't find a way out. That time when he first saw glimpses of his brother's drug addiction were after a fight. The anger he felt at the boy in the playground and the hint of fear just before his brother pulled the fist away from his face.

After the kidnapping attempt was another story he would rather not explore.

Just in case he have some sort of migraine or some ither misfortune, it's better to let John know the moment it haopened.

With his face pressed against the couch, he went to his mind palace. 

* * *

  _John said in passing that the first time they properly met, Mycroft said that there were some old scores amd resentments that they couldn't let go off. John was obviously witholding information but something is better than nothing._

_He was once again greeted by corridors filled with rooms. He knows which are the old ones and the new locked doors that littering the corridor. He approached one of the locked doors._

_He knows that his mind still works the same way because he is a man of habit. His memories were stored in a series of doors. Every room contained what he would need in a specific situation._

_This door-this whole corridor-was handy with dealing with Sherlock. He knows because just across this door is the door containing redbeard._

_He looked around and saw a desk wtih folders on top of it. He saw a camera phone, a pair of glasses, and various trinkets in the room._

_He saw a metal box and had a sinking feeling of what it means. He remembered finding Sherlock, high as a kite. He looked under the box and saw a piece of paper with writing he couldn'y understand._

_A list._

_Was Sherlock making lists? Of everything he takes?_

_He walked around when the folders drew his attention._

_Sherlock's cases. His other outlet. The thrill of solving cases and chasing around for the culprit waa addicting to his brother as well._

_Was this a room filled with Sherlock's addiction?_

_Finally his eyes landed on probably the oddest thing in the room for him. A spider web in the corner, the spider was sitting in the middle, a fly was flying around it. He waited for the fly to get stuck, it was only a matter of time. He almost wanted to take the fly away. But it kept flying dangerously close to the web, as if daring the spider to take move._

_If this does represent Sherlock's addictions then his older self must be getting poetic on him. Surely tempting death could have been a lot less dramatic than a fly tempting a spider._

_He nearly left the room but another sight caught his eye. It was two stuffed bears. He remembered them clearly. It was a gift from Aunt Blythe. He was eight and Sherlock was two. Apparently auntie thought that they were aga appropriate._

_His was a dark brown bear dressed in a suit, Sherlock's were a lighter shade of brown, wrapped around it's neck was a red scarf._

_The two stuffed toys were sitting in a chair. Mycroft almost dismissed it but he saw the distance. They were too far from each other. One was sitting in the middle while the other was nearly at the edge._

_He wanted to put them back together. Then a thought clicked._

_No, this was not Sherlock's addictions._

_He raced towards the stuffed toys and stared. What could they mean? His older self imagined them like this, why? In the current circumstamces Anthea and John hinted at he'd have thought it was the other way around._

_He grabbed the bear who was on the edge. "Why are you pushing him away?" he addressed the other bear._

_He set the light furred bear next to the other one. Keeping a few centimeters away._

_This place in his mind palace, this certainly wasn't Sherlock's addictions._

_He closed the door and leaned on the wood._

_They were his fears concerning his brother._

* * *

 

Mycroft opened his eyes. He was now laying on his back, arms by his side and hands forming a triangle above his body.

Damn. He was hoping for something more concrete. Perhaps he has to wait for another nightmare to give him all the pieces needed to unlock another door.

He got lucky. Most of those things were probably connected to each other, most things concerning Sherlock are often connected to each other by some vile slime like substance. He unlocked the big parts and dragged the little ones in.

It was almost sad that the first he unlocked are the fears concerning his brother but he had no idea of what most of them mean. 

 "Oh, you're awake. Good, dinner's ready in ten."

John went out off the kitchen, wiping some water off his hands."You feeling okay?"

Mycroft's eyebrows furrowed. "I'm fine."

John looked unconvinced but he dropped it.

* * *

After dinner-which Sherlock only scoffed at-Mycroft returned to the couch and John read a book on his chair. The detective was playing his violin by the window. 

The melody changed and Mycroft looked up sharply. He had the suspicion he knew where he heard it before. He shook his head, it was probably just some classical piece he hasn't heard off.

He took a deck of cards and laid them out the table to play solitaire.

Sherlock gently swayed along the music. His mind drifting back to those few hours of his brother snuggling next to him. His hand unconsciously changed the melody to the comforting lullaby mummy used to sing to him when he was sick. Perhaps Mycroft would have calmed down with the music easier whils he was sick if he had played the violin for him?

It was possibly the calmest night they ever had during this whole fiasco. Mrs. Hudson was downstairs watching her telenovela and they were all here at peace. If it weren't for the boredom that went hand in hand with peace and quiet, Sherlock would have finally breathed a sigh of relief.

The boring cases in the website and the unfortunate lack of cases Lestrade could offer was rotting his brain.

The memories that were resurfacing because of his brother's sudden de-aging were bothering him. These feelings were annoying him. Was this what Mycroft feels? He would probably give a damn good job because he hides it well. He could probably beat a mother saving her child in the emotional scale when he saw his brother nearly slip away from his fingers.  Not to mention the anger as he faced his brother's would be kidnapper.

If that was how normal people always feel, no wonder most of them were idiots.

* * *

 

Everything was all going smoothly. John almost bought a 'day__ of no accidents' poster when he passed a gag gift store. Even after all this they could use it to entertain and scare some clients.

Anthea said that they probably should go outside again. The park seemed logical enough. The original plan was to either give their location and maintain the act of normalcy in hopes that their villain would show himself or just to keep their cover until they find a cure and catch the everyome they needed to catch. They decided that they should stick to the plan they discussed many days ago.

It was better that it happen in places they suspected and secured rather than in some random street where they have no means to prepare.

They were going to the park again, probably meet with a friend-Lestrade most likely- have lunch, go home.

Everything was planned. They rehearsed their lines again, the lie they told would be kept. Nothing would be changed, it's much easier that way.

What could possibly go wrong?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I used those immortal words!   
> BTW, I have a slight idea of how this Mycroft's mind works. Which is actually saying a lot because half the time, I don't know how my mind works. So if you're confused in some parts, so I am. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think. :)


End file.
